Cinnxmxngxrl Updates

You remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. The cold porcelain of the toilet seat under your thighs. The pregnancy test stick clutched in your trembling fingers while you tried to aim. The uncertainty that made every sound echo louder in your tiny studio apartment, the best place a med student could afford. The steady drip-drip-drip from the leaky faucet. The nervous pacing of Robby’s footsteps just behind the thin wooden door.

“You good in there?” he asked, you could picture him leaning in, pressing his ear against the wood like he could somehow hear your thoughts.

You quickly wiped away the silent tears that had been streaming down your cheeks. “Yeah…” Your voice came out shaky and small. “Yeah. I’m done.”

You wiped, flushed the toilet, and stood up on unsteady legs, pulling your pants back on. Carefully, you set the cup and the pregnancy test on the edge of the sink before washing your hands.

“Can I come in?” Robby asked from the other side. Guilt was already eating him alive. This was his fault. He should have been the one guiding you, teaching you how to become a great doctor. Instead, he had jeopardized everything,  your education, your career, your future. Now, because of him, you were taking a pregnancy test in a cramped bathroom, wondering what the hell you were going to do with your life if two pink lines appeared.

You didn’t answer with words. You simply walked to the door, opened it, and stepped aside so he could enter. “It says three to five minutes,” you murmured, nodding toward the test resting on the sink.

“How—” Robby cleared his throat when his voice threatened to crack. “How are you feeling?”

“Scared?” The word came out like a question. Truthfully, you didn’t even know if “scared” was the right word. What was the right word for finding yourself in a situation you’d never wanted, knowing it was your own damn fault? You should have been more careful. You should have said yes the first time he asked about wearing a  condom. You should have told him to pull out instead of moaning “fill me up, Robby” every single time like you had lost all sense. 

You knew the odds. You knew the risks. But when he was inside you, none of that had mattered. And now destiny was laughing in your face. You had no plan. If you were pregnant… what then? Goodbye to med school. Goodbye to your dream of graduating and matching into emergency medicine. You’d probably have to move back in with your parents and spend your days raising a child instead of becoming a doctor. And goodbye to Robby, because why would a man like him want to stay tied to the med student he’d accidentally gotten pregnant and the baby he never asked for?

Fresh tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, soaking your cheeks instantly. You tried to stay quiet, but the sobs broke free anyway.

“Hey, hey, hey… come here.” Robby closed the distance in one step. The heat of his body wrapped around you like a shield. He slid one strong arm around your waist, anchoring you against his solid frame, and the other hand cradled the back of your head. “It’s perfectly normal to be scared. But you’ve got me. You’re not alone in this.”

“What are we—” Another sob escaped, muffled against his shoulder. “What am I gonna do, Robby? What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever feels right,” he whispered against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss there. “You’re supposed to do whatever you want to do. You have all the choices.”

“But which one is the right one?” You pressed harder into him, as if you could disappear into his chest. “Which one won’t make you hate me?”

“Jesus— Look at me.” He gently cupped your face with both hands, lifting it from his chest so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His own were red and watery. “Let me say this once, and I need you to hear me. I could never hate you. None of this is your fault. It’s no one’s fault… this just happens, okay? If the test is positive, then… it’s not the end of the world. We’ve got options. We have time to think about it.”

“Then why does it feel like it is the end of the world?” You tried to hide your face again in the broad warmth of his chest, where your tears had already left a dark patch on his shirt. He wouldn’t let you. He kept your face cradled between his palms, one thumb softly stroking your cheek as he wiped away another tear. 

“Why does it feel like no matter what I choose, you’ll end up resenting me for it?”

“I won’t,” he assured you again, his voice steady even though you could feel how hard he was trying. “You have to think about what you want. Nothing is more important than that. I’ll be here for whatever you decide.”

“What if I don’t want to keep it?” The words tumbled out. “Wouldn’t you feel like… like I took something away from you? Wouldn’t you think I’m selfish?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” He leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose, his warm lips making you shiver. Then your cheek, tasting your tears. Then your lips, reassuringly. “If the test is positive and you choose to terminate 6he pregnancy, I wouldn’t think that makes you selfish. I wouldn’t think you’re a bad person or that you’re stealing something from me. I’d think you’re strong. I’d think you’re being brave. And I’d be right there with you.”

The calmness in his voice steadied you a little. You could tell he was terrified, probably having a panic attack on the inside, but he was pouring every ounce of strength into not showing it. He wanted to be the rock you could lean on, the one who had answer, who knew what to do, who’d be there to support you no matter what.

“Is that what you’d want?” he murmured against your lips. “An abortion?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, so softly he might not have heard if he weren’t so close. “But… maybe it’s the only right choice. What would I even do with a baby? I’d have to drop out of med school… I’d fall so far behind. Raising a baby… I don’t know when I could even go back.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know?” he said gently. “A lot of women finish their studies while pregnant. They work while being moms too. Think of Dr. Shamsi, she finished her residency while—”

You knew he meant well, but right now the last thing you needed was a pep talk about strong women. “Yeah, well, I’m not Dr. Shamsi, Robby,” you cut in, the words coming out harsher than you intended. “I don’t think I can do it. And I can’t… I can’t put that weight on you. That burden. A child, Robby. I’d feel so guilty knowing I trapped you.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. He pulled back just enough to really look at you. “Trap me? Jesus fuck… do you even hear yourself? When have I ever made you feel like you’d be trapping me?” 

His tone edged toward anger, which only made your own flare up. “You didn’t ask for this! You’d be stuck with a child you never even wanted just because I didn’t want to get rid of it!” You couldn’t meet his eyes anymore and stared at the floor instead.

“A child…” He let out a slow breath. “A child doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” The words he’d been too afraid to even think until now finally slipped out. “Yeah, it would be difficult. Yeah, it would be a fucking challenge. I’m not gonna lie, I’m scared. But I don’t think a baby would be the worst thing to ever happen. Not by far.” 

He’d be lying if he said he had never dreamed of having a child, of becoming a father. In his mid-twenties, he had pictured it so differently. Finding the love of his life, getting married, waiting a year or two before having their first baby, then another one soon after. A proper family. But life had gotten in the way, long hours in the ED, the weight of responsibility, his own fears and insecurities reshaping the entire trajectory of his existence. Time slipped through his fingers, and before he knew it, the dream had been pushed further and further into the distance. Definitely not like this, a baby at forty-nine with the fourth-year med student he’d been sleeping with in a messy situationship for only a few months… that was never part of the plan. And yet, as that pregnancy test sat on the edge of the sink, the possibility grew heavier, more real. Maybe this was how it was meant to happen. Maybe the universe had finally caught up with him. Maybe it was time to stop running, time to stop hiding, and finally commit to something bigger than work. Something that actually mattered. Something that’d change his life and give it a new meaning, a new purpose.

“You’re saying you’d want it?” you asked, surprise flashing in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. “If I were pregnant… you’d want the baby?”

“I’m saying I want you to do what you want. But yeah… if you chose to keep it, then I’d want it too. I’m in, 100%.” Behind the fear in his voice, you heard absolute certainty.

“And how would that even look?” you asked quietly. “How would we do it?”

“If we’re doing it, we do it right. Together.” He took your hands in his, brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “You could move in with me. Once the baby’s born, we’d arrange our shifts so one of us is always with them. We’d get a sitter to help us so you can still have time to do your residency. You have me. You’ll have me every step of the way.”

“Promise?” you whispered.

“Promise.”

Silence stretched between you, as if the rest of the world had stopped spinning. In that tiny bathroom, it was just the two of you, holding each other’s hands with the promise of facing whatever came next together.

“I think it’s been over five minutes,” Robby said finally, glancing toward the sink. “Want to check?”

You nodded, and Robby released one of your hands, picked up the test, and held it between you without looking at the result yet. “Together?” he asked.

You swallowed. “Together.”

The imposing voice of Dana cut through the fog in your mind. “Earth to you… hello?”

You blinked, startled, and reluctantly dragged your eyes away from the computer screen where you’d been pretending to chart for the last ten minutes. Dana was leaning against the nurses’ station counter with one hip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Are you even listening to me right now? Because I’ve been talking to myself for five minutes. What’s up with you? You look like you didn’t close an eye last night.”

You forced a small, nervous laugh and quickly looked back down at the computer, hoping the glow of the screen would hide the exhaustion on your face. “Sorry… I slept okay,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant and unbothered. You weren’t fooling anyone, least of all Dana. You could feel her eyes studying you, taking in the faint shadows under your eyes, the slight slump of your shoulders, and the way you kept subtly shifting in your chair. Because no matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your body was still painfully aware of last night. The ghost of Robby’s thrusts still lingered between your thighs, a delicious ache that refused to fade even twelve hours later. 

Every time you moved, you were reminded of how hard he had taken you, how thoroughly he had ruined you. Your muscles were sore in the best and most inconvenient way possible. You crossed your legs under the desk, trying to ignore the throb that pulsed through you at the memory. The last thing you needed was Dana figuring out why you were so distracted. Unfortunately, Dana had the observational skills. She narrowed her eyes even further, tilting her head as she continued to stare at you. “Yeah… sure you did.”

Dana drifted his gaze past your shoulder down the corridor. Her expression shifted almost imperceptibly, lifting her brows a fraction and her mouth twitching like she’d tasted something sour. You followed her line of sight to Robby, striding toward trauma two, wearing his navy scrubs and cargo pants. There was a loose, easy roll to his shoulders, a confidence in his steps that screamed satisfaction. The corners of his mouth were curved in a half-smile that was the unmistakable “I got laid and it was fucking amazing” look.

Dana let out a dry huff of laughter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Jesus. I hate when he walks around with that ‘I got laid and it was amazing’ face. It’s obnoxious as hell. Makes the rest of us feel like we’re doing it wrong.”

You kept your face carefully neutral, tapping your fingers against the keyboard, but without writing anything. “Maybe he’s just in a good mood.”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that. You know that face, it’s always the same with that man.” Dana tilted her head, studying him as he paused to talk with Victoria, that satisfied smile lingering a beat too long. She narrowed her eyes, thinking hard for a second, then her head snapped back toward you when realization hit him. “Wait a minute… That face. That exact face is too familiar. It’s not just his regular ‘I got some’ look. That’s the same damn face he used to wear back when you two were sneaking around four years ago. And I haven’t seen it on him once since you two called it quits. Not a single time.”

Heat flooded your cheeks instantly. You felt cornered, exposed, like a deer caught in headlights. Dana ran this place, nothing escaped her eyes. Trying to lie to her was usually pointless, she could smell bullshit from miles away. “I– I really need to finish these charts,” you stammered. “I promised Hannah I’d try to get home early so we could—” The excuse died on your tongue, it sounded pathetic even to your own ears.

She looked at you like she’d already decided you were guilty. “Please tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Didn’t do what?”

She snorted. “You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”

You exhaled through your nose, dropping your shoulders in defeat. You glanced around the nurse station. It was quiet, no one close enough to overhear, then leaned in just a fraction.“Okay,” you muttered. “It was one time. One weak moment. I’m not doing it again.”

Dana didn’t t look surprised, just disappointed in the resigned way of someone who’s watched this film before and knew how it ended . “You’re so stupid,” she said, almost fondly. “Letting that mess of a man back in again.”

“I know.” You rubbed a hand over your face, wishing you could teleport anywhere but here. “I know. I’m just… so weak when it comes to him. He’s got this way of looking at me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, and the way he touches me…” You trailed off. “God, Dana, you don’t know how good it is. How he remembers every single—”

She held up a hand with the palm out. “Stop. Right there. I do not need the details. I’ve worked with that man for the last 20 years of my life, and I still got to work with him for the next eight hours. Spare me the play-by-play.”

“Sorry. It’s just… it felt like coming home, you know? And then this morning reality hit like a truck. And I realized I fucked up last night.”

Dana studied you for a long beat, and her expression softened just a fraction, enough to show the concern underneath.“Honey,” she said quietly, “you’re not weak. You’re human. And that man has always known exactly which buttons to push with you. But you’ve built something solid these last five years. Don’t throw that away because the sex is good.”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I told him it was a one-time thing. A relapse. I’m not doing it again. I swear.”

Dana arched her eyebrow high. “You swear.”

“Yeah.” You met her eyes even if your stomach twisted. You were embarrassed to let anyone know about your poor life choices, but if you could trust anyone, that was Dana, one of the only people who’d been here since the start of your story with him. “Last night was… it was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

She studied you for a long beat, then she pushed off the counter, stepping closer and dropping her voice to that tone she used when she’s done playing nice.“You'd better not. Go out. Meet someone. Anyone whose last name isn’t Robinavitch. Someone who can actually commit to a relationship.”

You looked down at your hands, still faintly wrinkled from too much hand sanitizer, a nervous habit you’d gotten out of him. “It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy,” she countered. “But it’s supposed to be possible. Find a guy who doesn’t bolt after a month because he ‘feels trapped’ and ‘needs space.’ Someone who doesn’t look at commitment like it’s an impossible mission. Someone who stays.”

The words sting because they’re true. Robby never lied about it, he’d told you early on he wasn’t built for the long haul, that relationships felt like another thing he’d inevitably fuck up. And when Hannah came along, when the exhaustion and the shifts and the fear piled up, he didn’t fight to keep you together. He just… drifted. Back to separate houses, separate beds, separate lives. 

“Hon, you know Robby was not made for a relationship. He’s a great dad, nobody’s arguing that. The man would walk through fire for that little girl. But you? He loves you in the way he knows how: sporadically. And that’s never gonna change. Keep it that way. Keep him in the dad column. Don’t let him back into the partner one.”

You rubbed your temples, the ache from last night’s lack of real sleep settling in behind your eyes. “I know. I do. It’s just… when he’s there, when he’s touching me, talking to me like I’m still his… it’s like the last five years never happened. Like we could pick up where we left off.”

“That’s the trap,” Dana said quietly. “It feels like home because it used to be. But homes can be haunted too.”

In the days that followed, you did everything you could to avoid Robby. At work, you kept your distance, volunteering for procedures on the opposite side of the ED whenever possible and burying yourself in charts or patient updates the moment you felt his presence nearby. Because every single time your eyes met his, even for a brief second, your body betrayed you.

You remembered the crushing weight of him on top of you that night, the way he’d fucked you into the mattress like the world was ending. You remembered how perfectly your bodies still moved together, how easily he could pull those broken sounds from your throat. Years had passed, but the fire between you hadn’t dimmed. If anything, it was burning brighter and hotter than ever, threatening to consume every boundary you had built.

Thankfully, Robby seemed to sense your need for space and didn’t push. He gave you room to breathe at the hospital, only speaking to you when a case genuinely required collaboration. His tone stayed strictly professional, his touches nonexistent. He still called every evening like clockwork to talk to Hannah, but with you he remained carefully polite, never lingering, never teasing, never crossing the lines you had drawn. 

You should have been relieved. He was finally respecting your wishes, he was doing exactly what you had asked him to do, and yet… on nights like this, when Hannah was at his place for her half of the week, the silence in your house felt suffocating. The emptiness pressed in from every corner. No little footsteps pattering down the hallway, no giggles echoing from the living room. Just you, alone in the quiet, with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company. And your mind refused to shut off, It buzzed loudly, relentlessly, replaying every moment of that night in vivid detail, the heat of Robby’s skin, the burn of his beard against your neck, the groan in your ear when he came undone inside you. 

You kept hearing his promises afterward: that he was a changed man, that this time he wanted you for real. Not out of duty because he’d gotten you pregnant. Not because he felt trapped by responsibility. But because he truly wanted to be with you, because he loved you. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. There were moments, weak and dangerous moments when you wished you could be reckless enough to fall for every word that came out of his mouth. To let yourself be dumb and hopeful and blind, just like you were five years ago.

Maybe you would have risked it if you were the only one who would get hurt when everything inevitably fell apart. You could survive a broken heart, you’d done it before. But Hannah couldn’t, she was innocent in all of this. She didn’t deserve to watch her parents try and fail again, to feel the instability, the confusion, the heartbreak of seeing her mother and father almost become a family, only for it to crumble. You refused to gamble with your daughter’s emotional safety just because you still craved the man who once broke your heart.

The knock on the door came right on time, just as the late afternoon sun was starting to slant through the living room windows. You were still in your scrubs, hair thrown up in a messy bun, when you opened the door to find Robby standing there with Hannah perched on his hip, her little pink backpack slung over his shoulder, making him look both silly and endearing at the same time, and her head resting sleepily against his chest.

“Hey,” Robby said softly. “We’re here.”

Hannah’s face lit up the second she saw you. “Mommy!” She reached both arms out, already wiggling to get to you. Robby shifted her gently into your arms, brushing his hand against your side in the process. The brief contact sent an unwelcome spark through you that you immediately tried to ignore.

“Hi, baby girl,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her soft brown hair, she smelled like the strawberry shampoo Robby always used on her. “Did you have a good time with Daddy?”

“We had a great time,” Robby answered for her, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He set her little backpack down by the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, looking unusually hesitant. 

“Listen… I’ve been thinking about something.”

You raised an eyebrow, bouncing Hannah lightly on your hip as she played with the collar of your top. “That sounds ominous.”

He let out a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not ominous. Just… I’m thinking of taking some days off work. Vacation days.” Your surprise must have shown on your face because Robby quickly continued. “I’ve been thinking about taking her somewhere warm. She’s been talking about the beach nonstop lately. There’s this resort in Mexico I’ve been looking at, very kid-friendly, right on the beach. Thought it might be nice for her to run around in the sand and actually see the ocean.”

Robby had never been one to take vacations. For most of his life, work had consumed him completely. He was drowning in the ED, the never-ending stream of patients, the constant pressure of being the one everyone relied on. There was always something more important, and a quiet voice in the back of his head constantly whispered that everything would crumble if he wasn’t there to hold it all together. He had never felt the pull to travel, no place ever seemed worth leaving the hospital for. Nothing could impress him or hold his attention long enough to make him want to step away. His entire identity had been tied to the job for so long that the idea of doing anything else felt foreign, almost selfish.

That was before Hannah arrived, she changed everything. From the moment she came into his life, Hannah gave him something he had never truly had before, and that was real purpose. She became the reason he woke up every single day determined to be better, to be the kind of father she deserved. The person who had to stay strong and healthy because she depended on him for everything, from teaching her how to tie her shoes, to how to be kind, how to stand up for herself. 

But Hannah had given him more than just purpose. She had awakened in him a brand-new desire to actually live. For the first time in years, his world expanded beyondwork. He wanted to do things, he wanted to see things, and more than anything, he wanted to experience them with her. His life no longer felt like it should revolve solely around the ED, he craved as much free time as he could carve out so he could share it with his daughter, watching her discover the world. He refused to miss even a single moment of her childhood while she was still small and everything felt unique to her. Hannah had unknowingly pulled him out of the endless cycle of work and survival. 

And that was how the trips began. Beach days where Hannah squealed at the waves and collected seashells in her bucket. Lazy summer afternoons fishing at a lake. Winter weekends at a cabin resort in the mountains, where they built snowmen in the backyard and drank hot chocolate by the fire. Whatever Hannah wanted to do, Robby made it happen.

You nodded slowly, processing the information. You dropped Hannah off carefully on the floor, and she immediately walked to her bedroom, mumbling something about saying hello to her stuffed animals. “Mexico… That sounds really nice for her. When were you thinking?”

“Probably in a couple of weeks, if I can get the time approved. I’d take about a week.”  He paused, watching your expression carefully. “Are you okay with that? With me taking her?”

“Yeah,” you said without hesitation. “Of course I’m okay with it. She’ll love it. Just make sure you send me all the flight information and the hotel details once you have them. I want to know exactly where she’ll be and how to reach you.”

“Already planning on it,” he assured you. “I’ll send everything as soon as it’s booked.” A comfortable silence settled for a moment. Then Robby shifted his weight and looked at you again, something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes. “Actually… I wanted to ask you something else.” He rubbed the back of his neck again, a tell you knew too well. “Would you want to come with us?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“I’d pay for everything,” he added quickly. “Your flight, your room. You don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been working insane hours lately with residency. It might be good for you to get away for a few days, too. Relax. Sleep in.”

The offer hung in the air between you, and for one brief second, you let yourself imagine it. You pictured the three of you on a beach in Mexico. Hannah running barefoot through the warm sand, her hair messy from the ocean breeze, laughing with pure joy every time a wave came close enough to tickle her toes. You saw yourself and Robby sitting nearby on lounge chairs, drinking margaritas while the sun kissed your skin. The sound of the waves rolling onto the shore, lulling you into a nap you hadn’t allowed yourself in years. 

After surviving on less than six hours a night for so long, the mere idea of lying back on a lounge chair and actually resting felt almost sinful. Vacations had always been a luxury you couldn’t afford. Not with the mountain of student loans, the demands of your residency, and the constant juggle of motherhood. The thought of taking time off just to relax had felt selfish, unrealistic, and completely out of reach. And now Robby was offering it all on a silver platter.

You quickly shoved the beautiful images away before they could take root and make you weak. Because that was the problem with Robby’s offer, it wasn’t just a vacation. It was a week of playing house, of blurred lines, and of watching him be the devoted father he had become, while your stupid heart remembered exactly how good things used to feel when the three of you were almost a real family.

“Robby…” You let out a slow breath. “Thank you. Really. That’s incredibly generous. But I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He furrowed his brow slightly. “Why not?”

“Because going on a vacation like that, the three of us,  it would be confusing. For her, especially. If we’re sharing space like a family for a whole week, she might start getting ideas about us getting back together. I don’t want to give her false hope. And it’d be confusing for us two, we need to keep our distance after… You know what.”

Robby’s jaw tightened for a moment, but his voice stayed calm. “We can get separate rooms. Hell, we don’t even have to hang out the whole time if you don’t want to. You could do your own thing, be at a different pool, get spa treatments, whatever. I’m not asking you to pretend we’re a couple. I just… I want to do this for you. You deserve a break too.”

You shook your head, even as a small, traitorous part of you ached at how sincere he sounded. “No, Robby. Thank you, but no. It’s sweet of you to offer, but it’s too complicated. We’ve worked really hard to keep things stable and clear for Hannah. Mixing a family vacation into that… it blurs too many lines. I appreciate it, I really do. But I think it’s better if it’s just the two of you.”

He watched you for a long moment, something like disappointment passing across his face, a quiet frustration he tried so hard to hide. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Message received. I’ll just take her, then. But the offer stands if you ever change your mind.”

You gave him a grateful smile, even though your chest felt tight from how much you wanted to say yes, because of how much you wished that maybe in another life, Robby and you could be those parents sunbathing in Mexico with their kid. “I won’t. But thank you.”

He nodded once, lingering for another few seconds like he wanted to say more, but decided that by pushing too hard to get close to you again, he’d only end up pushing you away. “I’ll text you the details as soon as everything’s booked.”

“Sounds good.”

Before heading toward the door, Robby paused. He gave you one last long look, the kind that always managed to slip past every defense you’d carefully built over the years. In that single glance, you were flooded with memories you spent most days trying desperately not to dwell on. Memories from five years ago, back when everything still felt possible. Back when you still believed, with naive, foolish hope, that the two of you could somehow make it work.

And then there were the much more dangerous memories from just two weeks ago, the night where, for a few stolen hours, it felt like the rest of the world had simply stopped existing. His hands on your body like he still owned every inch of it, the way he’d whispered your name against your skin, the overwhelming feeling that you had teleported back in time, back to when it was just the two of you. For those few hours, you had let yourself believe again. You had let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could still be a “we” in your future.

A couple of days later, you heard the knock of the door echo through the house just as you were finishing packing Hannah’s favorite stuffed capybara into her little backpack. You opened the door to find Robby standing on the porch. Hannah immediately squealed at the sight of him.

“Daddy!” She bolted forward, launching herself into his arms. Robby caught her with ease, laughing as he lifted her high and spun her once before settling her on his hip. “Hey, angel,” he said, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek. “You ready for Daddy’s house?”

You stepped aside to let them both in, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you watched the usual handoff routine unfold. Hannah was buzzing with energy, clutching Robby’s shirt with her little hands. “Daddy, Daddy! Are we really going to the beach soon?” she asked with her eyes wide, full of pure excitement. “With the ocean and the sand?”

Robby grinned, the kind of soft and genuine smile he only ever wore for her. “We sure are, baby girl. I already picked out a really nice hotel. It’s right on the beach. Want me to show you the pictures later when we get home?”

“Yes!” Hannah bounced in his arms, practically vibrating. “Does it have a pool? And ice cream? And can I get a new swimsuit to wear?”

“It has a huge pool, and I’m pretty sure they have all the ice cream you can eat,” Robby answered patiently. He glanced over at you while still holding her. “I booked one of the family suites with a big balcony overlooking the ocean. You’re gonna love it, Han.”

Hannah gasped dramatically, her little mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. “Mommy, did you hear? Daddy got a hotel with a balcony! For the ocean!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her pure joy, even as a knot started forming in your stomach. “I heard, sweetheart. Sounds amazing.”

Robby set Hannah down so she could run to grab her stuffed animal from the couch. The moment she was out of earshot, he lowered his voice slightly. “I meant what I said the other day. The offer’s still open if—”

Before he could finish, Hannah came racing back, clutching her capybara tightly. “Daddy, can Mommy come with us to the beach? Please?”

Robby didn’t miss a beat. He looked straight at his daughter with an innocent expression that you knew was anything but. “You know what, Han? I was actually thinking about inviting Mommy too. What do you think? Would you like Mommy to come on the trip with us?”

Hannah’s entire face lit up like the Fourth of July. She spun toward you so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet. “Mommy! You have to come! Please please please! We can build sandcastles together and swim and eat ice cream and watch the sunset and— and everything!”

You shot Robby a deadly look over Hannah’s head, the kind that promised a painful retribution the moment you two were alone. He simply raised his eyebrows in mock innocence. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was weaponizing the one person he knew you could never say no to. Hannah. She had always been your biggest weakness, your softest spot, and Robby knew it better than anyone. Those big, warm brown eyes were lethal. One pleading look from her, and your resolve crumbled like sand.

And right now, she was using every ounce of that power, blinking up at you with hope while clutching your hand like her entire happiness depended on your answer. It was unfair, completely unfair. Robby wasn’t just standing by and letting her beg, he was actively encouraging it, using your daughter as the ultimate emotional leverage. He knew you could resist him, he knew you could fight your own feelings, your own desires, your own stupid heart. But Hannah? Saying no to her when she looked at you like that felt almost cruel. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to hide how satisfied he was with himself, that tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth said everything. He was enjoying this far too much.

“Hannah, baby…” You crouched down to her level, gently brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Mommy would love to, but I’m super busy with work right now. I have so many shifts and—”

Robby’s voice cut in smoothly from behind her. “Actually, you have a bunch of vacation days saved up. I checked it yesterday.”

You straightened up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him, silently warning him to stop this nonsense before it went too far. “Robby.”

He shrugged, completely unbothered. “Just stating facts. You shouldn’t lie to your daughter, you know?”

Hannah grabbed your hand with both of hers, swinging it dramatically. “Mommy, pleeease? Pretty, pretty please!” You opened your mouth to respond, but Hannah was already in full pleading mode, her big puppy-brown eyes, exactly like Robby’s, staring up at you with devastating effectiveness.

“I really can’t afford it right now, sweetheart,” you tried again. “Plane tickets and hotels are expensive, and Mommy—”

“If Mommy can’t pay,” Robby interrupted you. “Then Daddy will pay. I’ve got it covered. Flights, resort, activities, all of it. You wouldn’t have to worry about a single thing.”

Hannah tugged harder on your hand, bouncing on her toes. “See? Daddy’s paying! So you can come! Please, Mommy? I want all of us together. Pretty pleeeeease.”

You felt cornered, trying to come up with more excuses, but as you reached inside your head, you couldn’t think of any. Robby stood there looking far too pleased with himself, while your daughter continued her relentless assault with those lethal eyes and endless enthusiasm.

“Hannah…” you started, searching desperately for another excuse.

“But Mommy,” she whined, pressing her face against your leg, “I’ll miss you so much if you stay here.”

Robby, the absolute traitor, decided to join forces. “She’s got a point,” he said casually, though his eyes were anything but casual when they met yours. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. And like I said before, I can get us separate rooms. You can do your own thing the whole time if you want. But it would mean a lot to her… and to me.” 

The “and to me” was spoken so quietly you almost missed it. You looked between the two of them, your daughter with her hopeful, shining eyes and her father, the man you still stupidly loved,  with that steady and patient gaze that had always been able to wear you down. The silence stretched. Hannah’s lower lip started to tremble just slightly, the ultimate weapon in her arsenal.

With a long, defeated sigh, you finally gave in. “…Fine,” you muttered, rubbing your temple. “I’ll go too.”

Hannah let out an ear-piercing squeal of pure delight and threw herself at your legs, hugging them tightly. “Yay! Mommy’s coming! We’re all going to the beach together!”

Robby’s smile was slow and satisfied, though he tried to keep it modest. “That’s great,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Really great.”

You pointed a finger at him over Hannah’s head. “You’re going to pay for this later, Robinavitch.”

His only response was a knowing chuckle. “Looking forward to it.”

Hannah continued dancing around the living room in celebration, already chattering about sandcastles, seashells, and swimming with dolphins. You stood there watching her, with your heart full of love for your daughter, loving every second of seeing her so happy, and equal parts dread and excitement about what you’d just agreed to, a family vacation in Mexico with Robby. God help you.

Hours later, the glow of your bedside lamp was the only light in the room. You were already tucked into bed, wearing an old, oversized t-shirt that had seen better days. Your phone suddenly vibrated on the nightstand, making you glance at the screen, letting out a slow breath as soon as you noticed who was calling. A Facetime from Robby. 

You hesitated for two rings, it was almost midnight, and you didn’t feel like having any possibly agitating conversation right before your bedtime, but ultimately ended up accepting the call. Robby’s face filled the screen almost immediately, he was in his bedroom too, the light of his lamp illuminating his face. His hair was messy, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his glasses were perched low on his nose, those fucking glasses… No, don’t even go there, you silently muttered to your brain

“Hey,” his voice sounded rougher, the way it always got late at night. A small smile tugged at his lips. “You already in bed?”

“Yeah,” you replied, adjusting the blanket over your lap, as if trying to cover yourself up. “It’s late, Robby.”

He hummed in agreement, slowly dragging his eyes over what he could see of you on the screen. “You look comfortable. Cute shirt.” There was a brief pause before he asked, almost casually, “So… have you started packing swimsuits yet?”

You stared at him for a moment, the irritation you’d been carrying for the past hours finally bubbled up. “Robby… we need to talk.”

Robby lifted his eyebrows slightly, but the lazy smile didn’t leave his face. “Alright. About what?”

“You manipulated me into agreeing to this trip.” 

Robby let out a low chuckle. “Manipulated? Damn, you’re using big words tonight.”

“It’s not funny,” you said sharply, though you kept your voice quiet so you wouldn’t wake Hannah. “You used our daughter to convince me, and then you joined in. That was low, even for you.”

He tilted his head, still smiling like this was all some lighthearted game. “Anything else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. You guilt-tripped me. The whole ‘it would mean a lot to her… and to me’ line? That was manipulation.”

Robby leaned back against his headboard, resting one arm behind his head, giving you an even better view of his bare chest. He looked far too relaxed for someone being accused of emotional manipulation. “Jesus,” he muttered, still chuckling softly. “Oh-ho-ho, I’m so evil, I manipulated the mother of my child into letting me take her on a fully paid week at a luxury beach resort in Mexico.” He raised an eyebrow, mock-serious. “Am I gonna go to prison for that?”

“Robby.”

“Relax,” he said, softening his tone just a fraction, though the amusement was still there. “Hannah’s excited. You saw her. She wants all three of us there. I’m just trying to give her what she wants.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you shot back. “I know your real agenda behind all of this.”

He tilted his head again, looking curious now. “Oh yeah? And what’s my agenda, according to you?”

You sat up a little straighter in bed, clutching the blanket tighter. “You’re using this stupid trip as an excuse to try and get back with me. You think throwing money at a vacation and putting us in the same space for a whole week is going to magically fix everything. It’s not going to work.”

For a moment, Robby just looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then that stupid smirk of his spread across his face again. “Have you seen me in swim trunks lately? I look real good. You might have to swallow your words when you see me.”

You let out an exasperated scoff, though you couldn’t stop the flush that crept up your neck. You hated the way he could still make you laugh when you were trying to be pissed. You hated the way your body still reacted to his words. “You’re impossible. Seriously, it’s impossible to have a serious conversation with you sometimes.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself. “Sun, sand, good drinks, me looking like this… you never know.”

“I’ll go,” you said, cutting him off before he could keep going. “But don’t even think this means anything else. We’ll get separate rooms. We’ll make separate plans. I’m going for Hannah. That’s it. Don’t get any ideas.”

Robby ignored your warning completely. “You look so gorgeous right now,” he murmured. Suddenly, his voice went quieter, more intimate. Robby moved his eyes slowly over your face, down to the collar of your shirt and back up again. “All soft and sleepy in bed like that. Fuck… I wish I were lying there with you.”

Your stomach flipped despite yourself, the way he said it, so sincere and full of a hunger that never ceased but only grew stronger every day, made heat bloom in your belly. You wanted to scream at how easily he could still do that to you. “Robby…” you warned him.

“I’m serious,” he continued. “I miss the way you feel under me. The way you breathe when you’re falling asleep next to me. I miss—”

“Goodbye, Robby.” You didn’t wait for him to finish, you ended the facetime call with a tap of your finger, plunging your screen into darkness. The room felt suddenly too quiet, too empty without his presence there. You dropped your phone onto the mattress beside you and stared up at the ceiling. Your skin felt warm, your mind was already replaying the way he’d looked at you, the tone of his voice when he said he wished he was lying there with you.

You pulled the blanket higher up to your chest, trying to ignore the storm of feelings Robby had just stirred up with nothing but his voice. It didn’t work, the ache was still there, as well as the flutter in your chest. The way your heart tripped over itself whenever he looked at you like that. Five years later, and Michael could still make your stupid heart race like you were that same fourth-year med student who used to sneak into his place late at night after shift. And now you had agreed to spend an entire week with him. A full week in Mexico. Seven days of Robby being Robby, charming, attentive, and far too good at reminding you exactly why you fell for him in the first place.

You had to force yourself to go back to one of the saddest days you could remember. Robby had come home from a brutal twelve-hour shift. You had just collapsed onto the couch after finally getting Hannah down, she’d been fussy all day, teething and crying restlessly. The moment he walked through the door, you could tell it had been a bad one. His eyes were glassy and distant, the lines on his face etched deeper than usual. Lately, every shift seemed to carve something out of him. He moved closer and pressed a quick, almost mechanical kiss to your forehead. No hello. No “how was your day.” Not even the ghost of a smile. Just autopilot, he was running on empty.

He sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, far from you, shoulders slumped. “There’s some pasta in the fridge I made,” you whispered, hoping it would reach him. He didn’t answer, didn’t even nod. He just stared at nothing, too drained to move.

Then Hannah let out a small cry from her crib. Before you could push yourself up, Robby was already on his feet. He scooped her up gently against his shoulder, swaying her in a soothing rhythm. “Are you okay, little angel?” he cooed softly, tender in a way it hadn’t been for you in weeks. “Yes, you’re okay. Yes, you are. Daddy’s here… shhh, go back to sleep.” That was the only moment you saw him smile genuine, and heartbreakingly soft as he held his daughter.

Tears burned in your eyes as you stood and walked closer to him. You had spent so many sleepless nights turning it over in your mind, and you couldn’t keep prolonging the inevitable. “Robby… we need to talk.”

“About us?” he replied, already sensing where this was going.

You nodded, feeling your throat tight. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t want to be with me? That… you regret telling me to move in with you and being together?”

Robby sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like the weight of the world was pressing down on them. “It’s just work. You have no idea what it’s like trying to hold the whole fucking department together when everything is crumbling down and—”

“It’s not just that,” you cut him off. “You don’t look at me. You don’t talk to me. I understand your job is hard, that you’re stressed and exhausted, but… shit, Robby, all we do is ignore each other. The only time we actually speak is to argue about something stupid.” The tears slipped free then, there was no holding them back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I thought I could do all of this, but I—” Tears welled in his eyes too, spilling over as he tried to hold it together. “I don’t know what to do. I—” A sob cut him off.

“Do you need space?” you asked, dreading the answer. “Is that it? You need us to take some time?”

He looked at you for a long moment, broken and defeated. “Yes.”

Two weeks had passed, and before you realized it, the suitcase lay now open on your bed, half-filled with the folded clothes you had carefully picked for the trip. You stood in front of it, folding another sundress, while Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by her own small pink suitcase and a pile of toys.

“Hannah, baby, do you have everything?” you asked for what felt like the tenth time. “Swimsuits? Sunscreen? The colouring books Daddy bought you for the plane?”

Hannah nodded enthusiastically, holding up her favorite ruffled swimsuit. “Yes, Mommy! And my water wings and the new sunglasses Daddy got me!” She beamed with uncontainable excitement. “Are we leaving soon? Is Daddy almost here?”

“Any minute now,” you replied, zipping up the main compartment of your suitcase with a sigh. Your stomach had been in knots all morning, this trip still felt like a terrible idea the more you thought about it, but Hannah’s joy made it impossible to back out now.

Right on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Hannah shot up like a rocket and ran toward it, yelling “Daddy!” at the top of her lungs.

You followed more slowly, pulling both suitcases behind you. When you opened the door, Robby stood there in a casual white linen shirt and shorts, looking annoyingly relaxed and handsome in the morning sunlight. His eyes immediately found yours, a small playing on his lips. “Hey,” he said softly. “You two ready?”

“Daddy!” Hannah launched herself at him. Robby scooped her up effortlessly, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hi, my little mermaid. You got all your stuff?” He glanced over her head at you. “Need help with the bags?"

“I’ve got them,” you said, a little more curtly than you intended. 

The drive to the airport was filled with Hannah’s nonstop chatter from the backseat. She pointed out every car, every cloud, every sign, asking a thousand questions about the plane, the ocean, and whether there would be dolphins. Robby answered every single one with patience, occasionally glancing at you in the passenger seat. You kept your eyes on the road, trying not to think too hard about how domestic this all felt. 

At the airport, Robby handled check-in, and when the agent handed over the boarding passes, you caught a glimpse of them and froze. Business class.

You turned to him slowly as they walked toward security. “Seriously, Robby? It’s a four-hour flight. We could’ve flown economy like normal people.”

He shrugged, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I had miles on my card for an upgrade. Didn’t cost anything extra.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Robby.”

He leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low so Hannah wouldn’t hear. “Forgive me. I just wanted to spoil my family a little.”

“We’re not a family,” you said firmly, glancing ahead at Hannah skipping between you two. Robby didn’t argue, he just gave you a look that said he disagreed but wasn’t going to push. 

The flight itself was smoother than you expected. In business class, the seats were wide and comfortable. You both let Hannah had the window seat, ans she spent most of the flight pressed against the glass, watching the clouds and looking at the ocean. Robby sat in the middle, keeping Hannah entertained with the in-flight entertainment and snacks.

You tried to read, but your mind kept wandering, every time Robby’s arm brushed yours, reaching for something, or when he laughed at one of Hannah’s excited comments, memories flooded your mind back, and you had to constantly remind yourself the only reason you were doing this was because Hannah had asked.

You landed in Cancun four hours later. A private transfer waited for you outside arrivals. The driver loaded your bags while Hannah bounced between you and Robby, holding both your hands. The drive to the resort took about forty-five minutes along the coast. You watched the palm trees that lined the road and the turquoise water on one side. Hannah pressed her face to the window the entire time, gasping at every new sight.

When the resort finally came into view, it was even more beautiful than the pictures. A luxurious property with white buildings, infinity pools cascading toward the ocean, and tropical gardens everywhere. 

The humid air of Cancun wrapped around you the moment you stepped out of the transfer van. The resort lobby was stunning with high ceilings, white marble floors and massive floral arrangements. Hannah’s hand was firmly in yours, her fingers squeezing with excitement as her eyes darted everywhere at once. “Mommy, look! There’s a fountain! And flowers! And the ocean is right there!”

Robby walked a few steps ahead, carrying Hannah’s pink suitcase in one hand and his own duffel in the other. He looked completely at ease, the fabric of his shirt slightly damp from the humidity and clinging just enough to show the lines of his shoulders. He glanced back at you with a reassuring smile before heading straight to the reception desk. You stayed back with Hannah, letting her point out every detail she noticed.

A few minutes later, Robby returned, twirling a key card between his fingers. “All set. We’re in the beachfront wing. Follow me.”

The walk to the room was beautiful but felt endless. Hannah skipped between you and Robby, holding both your hands and swinging them as she chattered nonstop about building the biggest sandcastle in the world. 

Robby finally stopped in front of a beautiful wooden door, he swiped the key card, and the door clicked open. The suite was breathtaking, with floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that opened onto a wide private balcony overlooking the ocean. The living area had elegant white furniture, and as you stepped further inside, your eyes landed on the bedroom area with two queen-size beds.

You stopped dead in the doorway. “Where’s the other room?” you asked slowly, worried you already knew the answer Robby was about to give you.

Robby set the suitcases down and scratched the back of his head, looking mildly sheepish. “Yeah… so there was a mix-up at the front desk. We only got one room.”

You stared at him with disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now?” The asshole had to be kidding. But then again, this was Robby, and this was exactly the kind of shenanigans he’d put you through. You should have known he wouldn’t keep his promise to let you do your own thing at the resort, to not act like you were a real family on a family holiday. You had been to hopeful to expect he’d at least wait a little longer before showing his real intentions.

Hannah, completely oblivious to the tension, let out a delighted squeal and immediately launched herself onto the nearest bed, jumping up and down with pure joy. “This one’s mine! No, this one! Look how bouncy it is, Mommy! Daddy, come jump with me!”

You barely heard her, your whole attention was locked on Robby. The family suite was gorgeous, in tasteful neutral tones, with fresh flowers on the nightstands, a bottle of champagne and fruit plate waiting on the table with a welcome note, but none of that mattered. What mattered now was that Robby had not only manipulated you to agree to this trip, but he’d also lied to you.

“Michael, do you think I was born yesterday? You totally did this on purpose. I know it.” 

He held up both hands in a placating gesture, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “There was a confusion with the booking. I swear. They had us down for a family suite with two queens instead of two separate rooms.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Go fix it. Right now.”

“I already tried,” he said calmly, stepping closer so Hannah wouldn’t overhear. “They’re completely booked. Peak season, a big wedding happening this week. No other rooms available in the whole resort.”

You let out a frustrated breath, rubbing your temple. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby. Separate rooms. That was the condition. I never would’ve come if—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “But it’s just one week. I can take one bed, you and Hannah can take the other. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you hissed, keeping your voice down as Hannah continued bouncing happily, now unpacking her stuffed capybara and arranging it on the pillows. “This is exactly what I was worried about. You’re pushing boundaries.”

Meanwhile, Hannah had moved on to dragging her suitcase across the room, chattering excitedly. “Mommy, can we go to the beach now? The water is waiting! I want to find seashells and build a castle.”

Robby glanced at her with that fatherly smile that always made your chest ache, then looked back at you. “Look at her. She’s already so happy. One week, that’s all. We’re adults. We can handle sharing space for a few nights without it meaning anything.”

You stared at the two queen beds again. They were large, luxurious, with more pillows than necessary. The balcony doors were open, letting in the warm breeze and the constant, soothing sound of waves. It would have been perfect… if it weren’t for the man standing two feet away looking far too pleased with this “mix-up.”

Hannah suddenly ran over and grabbed your hand, then Robby’s. “Come on! Let’s go to the beach! I’m ready! I have my bucket and everything!”

You looked down at your daughter’s beaming face, then back at Robby. He raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting. You let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine. But this changes nothing, Robby. Separate beds. No funny business. And the second a room opens up, we’re switching.”

“Whatever you say,” he replied, but the small, satisfied smile on his face told you he wasn’t worried at all.

He set his suitcase near one of the queen beds and nodded toward the bathroom. “I’ll go change first. Won’t be long.”

You nodded silently, still processing everything, but as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, you turned your attention to Hannah, who was already pulling things out of her pink suitcase with frantic excitement.

“Come here, baby,” you said softly, kneeling on the floor beside her bed. “Let’s get you ready for the beach.”

Hannah stood in front of you, wiggling with impatience as you helped her out of her travel clothes. You carefully slipped her into her favorite ruffled swimsuit, bright pink with little white flowers, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric over her tummy. Then came the sunscreen. You squeezed a generous amount into your palm and rubbed it slowly over her arms, shoulders, back, legs, and face, making sure every inch was covred. Hannah giggled when you got to her nose, squirming because of how tickly it was.

“You have to stay safe from the sun, okay?” you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re going to have so much fun, but Mommy doesn’t want you to get burned like a toast.”

“I won’t!” she promised solemnly, then immediately went back to bouncing on her toes. “Can I wear my new sunglasses? And my hat with the flowers?”

The bathroom door opened, and Robby stepped out, for a moment, time seemed to slow. He wore dark swim trunks, paired with a simple white shirt that he hadn’t bothered to put on yet,  it was slung over his shoulder. You had seen his bare body no more than a month ago, you’d been under it, but it still felt, somehow, like seeing him again for the first time.

You stared at him longer than you should have. His soft but solid tummy that drove you insane, and that familiar trail of dark hair across his chest that you had always, always loved running your fingers through.

Your eyes traced the lines of his chest, the way the hair curled slightly, the soft give of his stomach. Heat flushed up your neck because God, you still loved every inch of him. 

Robby caught you looking and a knowing smile spread across his face. “What?” he asked teasingly. “I got something on my face?”

You blinked hard, tearing your gaze away. “No,” you muttered, grabbing your own beach bag a little too quickly. “I’m… going to change.”

You escaped into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind you. The mirror showed your flushed cheeks, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. This was just a week, you could handle this. Just a week of sleeping in the same room, just a week of seeing his body, just a week of him deliberately trying to break down our walls.

You changed into one of the bikinis you’d packed, a simple black two-piece that tied at the sides and back. You liked how it looked on you, it was flattering, but as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt suddenly, acutely aware of how little it covered. Your body had changed since having Hannah, a few stretch marks here and there, breasts that were fuller but not as perky as before. Standing here in just this tiny bikini, knowing Robby was right outside… it felt vulnerable.

You adjusted the ties one more time, took another steadying breath, and stepped out of the bathroom. Hannah immediately squealed. “Mommy, you look so pretty!” She ran over and hugged your legs before darting into the bathroom herself to grab her sunglasses and sun hat. “I’ll be right back!”

You stood in the middle of the suite, adjusting the strap of your beach bag, when Robby stepped in from the balcony. He had been leaning on the railing, looking out at the ocean, but the moment he turned and saw you, he stopped dead. His eyes widened, and he dramatically clutched his chest with one hand, staggering back a step like he was having a heart attack.

 “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, the grin on his face pure mischief. “Warn a guy next time.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that wanted to break free. “You’re so not funny, Robinavitch.”

You wanted to slap that smug smile right off his face and kiss him senseless at the same time. The two urges warred inside you, because you hated how much his words mattered. How easily he could make you feel like the most beautiful woman who had ever stepped foot on this earth, and how completely you believed him when he said it. He wasn’t just mumbling the words because it felt like something he was supposed to say. No, Robby looked at you like he truly wanted you, like he was dying to get his hands back on your body, to pull you close and remind you exactly how good it used to feel. His gaze lingered, tracing over you in a way that made heat flood your stomach. God, you hated how much you still wanted him to.

He didn’t stop. He kept one hand pressed to his heart, shaking his head slowly as his gaze traveled over you, unashamed, appreciative, and far too warm. “You’re trying to kill me on day one, huh? That bikini… fuck. You look incredible.”

Heat flooded your face again, but you crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly self-conscious. “Stop it. This is exactly what I was worried about.”

Robby took a slow step closer, still smiling, but his voice dropped. “Can’t help it. You’ve always looked good, but seeing you like this…” He let the sentence trail off, his sight lingering on the curve of your waist and the ties at your hips.

Before you could respond, Hannah burst back out of the bathroom wearing her oversized sunglasses and floppy sun hat, striking a dramatic pose. “I’m ready! Let’s go see the ocean!”

The sand was warm under your feet as the three of you made your way down the wooden boardwalk to the private stretch of beach reserved for resort guests. The sea stretched out in front of you, waves lapping against the shore, leaving behind lines of foam. Hannah’s excitement was infectious. She ran ahead a few steps, then back to you and Robby, her little sun hat flopping with every bounce. “The water is so blue! Can we go in right now? Please?”

Robby chuckled, adjusting the beach bag on his shoulder. “Let’s set up first, kiddo. Then we’ll swim.”

You chose three loungers under a large thatched umbrella near the water’s edge. You spread out towels while Robby helped Hannah with her water wings. The resort staff had placed a small cooler with chilled water and fruit beside the chairs, and soft music drifted from speakers along the beach. 

Once everything was settled, Robby stood and offered his hand to Hannah. “Ready, little mermaid?” 

She grabbed his hand with both of hers and tugged him toward the water. You watched them go, settling back into your lounger with the book you’d brought.  The sun felt incredible on your skin, you opened your book, but your eyes kept drifting over the top of the pages. Robby and Hannah waded into the shallow waves. Hannah squealed every time the water touched her legs, clinging to Robby’s hand. He lifted her high when a bigger wave came, spinning her around as she laughed uncontrollably. His swim trunks moved lower on his hips, and it made it impossible for you to focus on your book, every few minutes your gaze wandered back to them. 

After nearly an hour, Hannah came running back to you, dripping wet and beaming. “Mommy! Come build sandcastles with me! Daddy said he’ll watch our stuff.”

You set your book aside and took her hand, walking down to the firmer sand near the waterline. The two of you knelt together, digging with plastic shovels and buckets. Hannah chattered nonstop about her castle needing a moat and a tower for the princess. You helped her pat the walls smooth, adding seashells and bits of coral you found along the shore. The sun warmed your back, and for a while, everything felt simple and perfect,  just you and your daughter creating something together. But you felt Robby’s eyes on you the entire time, when you glanced up, he was sitting on the lounger, with his elbows on his knees, watching with an unreadable expression. 

He didn’t look away when your eyes met, the intensity in his gaze made heat bloom across your skin. Later, when the castle was tall and elaborate, Hannah got a mischievous glint in her eye. “Can we bury Daddy in the sand? Like a mummy?”

Robby, who had joined you, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I see how it is. Ganging up on me already?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Sounds fair.”

The three of you worked together, slowly covering Robby as he lay back in the sand. Hannah patted sand over his legs with delight, while you worked on his arms and torso. The heavy sand molded around his body as he lay there patiently, occasionally joking with Hannah about becoming a “sand mummy.” Every time your hands brushed his skin while smoothing the sand, a spark jumped between you. He noticed, and you knew he did.

When you finally stepped back, Robby was almost completely buried, only his head and part of his neck visible. Hannah clapped her hands and danced around him. “He looks like a turtle!”

Robby chuckled, trying to move and finding himself well and truly stuck. “Alright, ladies. Fun’s over. Unbury me.”

You exchanged a look with Hannah, a smile spreading across your face. “You know what, Hannah? Don’t you want to go get some ice cream? I saw a stand right by the pools, and since this is all-inclusive, we can have all the ice cream we want.”

Hannah’s eyes lit up like stars. “Yes! Chocolate and strawberry and rainbow sprinkles!”

Robby snapped his head toward you, as much as he could with what little mobility he had left. “Ice cream sounds great. Why don’t you get me out of here and we go there together?”

You crouched down beside him, close enough that your shadow fell over his face. You leaned in until your faces were only inches apart. “This is for booking one room, Michael.”

His eyes widened with outrage. “You wouldn’t—”

You straightened up before he could finish, taking Hannah’s hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go find that ice cream. Daddy can wait a few more minutes.”

Hannah giggled conspiratorially and waved at Robby. “Bye, Daddy! We’ll bring you some… maybe!”

As the two of you walked away hand-in-hand toward the resort path, Robby’s voice followed you, half-laughing, half-protesting. “This is unfair punishment! Hannah! Come back!”

You didn’t look back, but you couldn’t stop the satisfied smile on your face. For the first time since arriving, you felt like you might actually survive this week, but only if you kept winning the small battles.

The light of late afternoon had softened into the warm pinks and oranges by the time you and Hannah returned to the suite. The scent of ocean salt that clung to your skin and your hair was a wild mess. You both needed showers badly. You helped Hannah first, rinsing the sand from her hair and body. After drying her with one of the oversized white towels, you slipped her into her favorite purple dress and brushed her hair until it was smooth. Your turn came next, you took your time, letting the warm water wash away the salt, sand, and sunscreen. When you emerged wrapped in a towel, Hannah was sitting on one of the queen beds, flipping through a children’s book the resort had left. 

She looked up with a bright smile. “Mommy, I’m so hungry! Can we go eat now?”

“Soon, baby. Let’s wait and see if Daddy gets back so we can all go together.”

You were both dressed and ready when the door to the suite finally opened. Robby stepped inside, still covered head to toe in sand. It clung to his hair, dusted his shoulders and arms, and left visible trails down his legs. His swim trunks looked gritty, and there was sand stuck to the damp skin of his chest and stomach. He looked equal parts ridiculous and defeated. You and Hannah stared for half a second before bursting into laughter. 

Hannah pointed, doubling over on the bed. “Daddy! You’re a sand monster for real!”

Robby closed the door behind him with a dramatic sigh, brushing uselessly at his arms. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “That wasn’t cool at all.”

You tried to stifle your laughter, covering your mouth with one hand. “You deserved that, Michael.”

He shot you a look, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I have sand in places no person should ever have sand. I’m talking places, okay? You left me there all afernoon.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smiling. “Really? The whole afternoon?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sending another shower of sand onto the floor. “Maybe a beach guard eventually helped dig me out. That’s not the point. The point is you two left me there.”

Hannah was still giggling uncontrollably. “Sorry, Daddy. I ate all the ice-cream.”

Robby shook his head, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “Traitors, both of you.” He glanced down at himself again and sighed. “I need a shower. Give me ten minutes and we can head to dinner.”

While Robby disappeared into the bathroom, you and Hannah sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the water run. When Robby finally emerged, he looked refreshed, wearing a clean button-down shirt and shorts. “Ready?” he asked, offering Hannah his hand.

The buffet was everything a resort like this promised, long tables overflowing with fresh seafood, grilled meats, salads, tropical fruits, and many dessert stations. Hannah’s eyes were wide as saucers as she piled her plate high with pasta, shrimp, and fruit, while you and Robby chose more balanced meals. 

You ate slowly, savoring the flavors while Hannah chattered between bites about everything she’d seen that day, occasionally yawning as the long day caught up with her.

After dinner, the walk back to the suite was peaceful, the pathways were lit with lanterns, and the sound of waves grew louder again as you approached the beach wing. Hannah walked between you and Robby, holding both your hands, her steps slowing with tiredness.

Back in the room, the bedtime routine felt strangely intimate. You helped Hannah brush her teeth while Robby turned down the beds. Hannah chose to sleep with you tonight. You tucked her in on the bed closest to the balcony, reading her a short story while Robby dimmed the lights.

Soon, Hannah’s breathing evened out into sleep, her body curled against your side. You lay there in the semi-darkness while Robby settled into the other bed, the sheets rustling as he got comfortable.

“Well, isn’t this nice?” Robby murmured, soft enough not to disturb Hannah’s peaceful sleep. “The three of us here like this… I had a great time today. Even if I spent three hours buried under sand.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your treacherous heart agreed with him. It did feel nice, dangerously nice. You’d had so much fun being with him, doing things together like a regular family: building sandcastles, chasing waves, watching Hannah’s delighted squeals. For a few stolen hours, it had felt real. “Tomorrow morning,” you said quietly, despite the ache in your chest, “you’re going to the reception and asking if they have any more rooms available.”

The next morning you woke slowly, Hannah was still curled against your side on the queen bed. Carefully, so as not to wake her, you slipped out of bed. You moved quietly around the room, brushing your teeth, splashing cool water on your face, and running a brush through your hair. You chose a red bikini today, tied the strings and slipped on a light white cover-up. Before leaving, you scribbled a short note and left it on the nightstand: Went for an early walk on the beach to watch the sunrise.

Robby woke later, he spotted the note immediately and read it with a smile. “Mommy went for an early beach walk,” he told Hannah, helping her sit up. “Let’s get ready and surprise her with breakfast on the beach. What do you think?”

Hannah’s face lit up. They took their time, Robby patiently helping her brush her teeth and wash her face. He changed into swim trunks and a loose linen shirt, applied sunscreen to Hannah’s face and arms, and they headed out hand-in-hand, making a quick stop at the breakfast buffet to grab some fresh fruit, croissants, yogurt, and cold water bottles to bring to the beach.

The ocean sparkled brilliantly as he scanned the loungers, looking for you. When he finally spotted you further down the beach, his steps slowed. You were standing near the water’s edge in just the red bikini, the morning light highlighting every curve of your body. You looked relaxed, confident, and breathtakingly beautiful. And you weren’t alone. A tall, ripped guy in his mid-to-late twenties stood close to you, shirtless, his sculpted abs and broad shoulders glistening slightly with sweat or water. He was laughing at something you said, leaning in with confidence, clearly flirting back with you. 

He looked like he belonged on a fitness magazine cover, young, with zero signs of the wear that came from decades of work. An ugly twist of jealousy hit Robby in the chest. But it wasn’t just jealousy, it was insecurity hiding right behind it. This guy was younger, fitter. Probably had endless stamina and no emotional baggage. Robby became acutely aware of his own softer stomach, the gray hairs scattered across his chest, and the wrinkles around his eyes from years of exhaustion. He felt every one of his fifty. years in that moment, standing there holding a plate of fruit and his daughter’s hand.

Hannah tugged excitedly on Robby’s hand. “There’s Mommy! Look, Daddy! She’s over there by the water. Can we go say hi? Please?”

Robby forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Let’s go.”

They started walking across the warm sand. Robby’s focus narrowed entirely on you and the man standing far too close. As they approached, he heard the guy’s easy laugh again. The young man was animated, gesturing toward the horizon with one muscular arm, clearly in the middle of some charming story. 

“Good morning” Robby said, trying not to sound bothered but doing a terrible job hiding his annoyance. “I see you found company.”

The guy’s gaze flicked from you to Robby, then back to you with mild confusion. “Is that… your father?”

The word landed like a punch, and Robby let out a short and dry laugh, though his jaw tightened painfully. “Her father,” he mumbled on the low. “Cute. No. I’m her husband, as a matter of fact.” His voice didn’t even hesitate over the blatant lie he’d just said.

You laughed, an uncomfortable and forced sound that made Robby’s chest twist. “He’s not my husband,” you corrected quickly. “He’s just… a guy I know from work.”

Robby turned to you slowly, raising one eyebrow raised in disbelief. “A guy you know from work? Excuse me?” The young guy shifted awkwardly on his feet, clearly sensing the sudden thick tension crackling in the air. “I’m the father of her daughter. Michael Robinavitch, nice to meet you.”

The guy’s eyes darted between the three of you, with a confused look across his face as if he couldn’t quite process the sudden shift. Just a couple of minutes earlier he’d been leaning in close, flashing an easy smile and flirting with acute woman at the beach. Now here you were with a man standing possessively close and a little kid next to him. And as if he couldn’t quite believe that Robby, was somehow the father of that kid. “So… you have a daughter? With her?”

Robby kept his tone light for Hannah’s sake, ruffling her hair gently with one hand, but there was an edge underneath his words. “Yes. I got her pregnant. It was a wonderful experience, actually.”

The words came out with a possessive undertone he didn’t even try to hide. What a fucking little prick, Robby thought. He wishes he could pull a woman like you. Sure, the guy might have abs where Robby had a softer belly. Maybe his forehead was smooth, with no lines etched from the pass of time, and his head might still be free of silver hairs. But Robby had pulled you without any of that polished bullshit, and you had always looked at him like he was the most handsome man to ever exist. A little asshole like him wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a woman like you.

You shot Robby a warning glare, a mix of anger and embarrassment. because now you had to explain your awkard family situation to this stranger. “It’s… complicated,” you told the guy, forcing a polite smile that felt brittle on your face. “Really complicated.”

The young man rubbed the back of his neck, his sculpted shoulders tensing visibly. He was clearly uncomfortable now, the easy flirtation from moments ago evaporating. “Yeah… uhh, I think my friends are calling me. Nice to meet you, though.” He gave you one last lingering, appreciative glance before turning and walking away toward a group of guys further down the beach.

The second he was out of earshot, you rounded on Robby, trying to keep your voice low and controlled so Hannah wouldn’t hear, but still with a furious undertone in it. “What the hell was that? You completely ruined it. He was flirting with me, and you had to march over here acting like some possessive caveman. And “her husband” What the hell was that?”

Robby set the beach bag down on the sand a little harder than necessary. “Oh please,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, the movement highlighting the soft give of his stomach beneath his shirt. “He’s not even your type.”

You stared at him incredulously. “And how exactly would you know what my type is these days, Robby?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were dark with a potent mix of jealousy and insecurity. “Because I know you. That guy? All looks and no substance. Perfect abs and zero idea what real life looks like. You’d be bored in ten minutes.”

The words hung between you. Hannah, sensing the growing tension like children always do, tugged gently on your hand. “Mommy, can we eat breakfast now? I’m hungry.”

You forced a warm smile for her, pushing down the frustration and smoothing her messy brown hair with your fingers. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s sit down and eat. Daddy brought all your favorites.”

The rest of the morning on the beach passed in silence from your side. You didn’t speak one more word to Robby. Every time he tried to make conversation,offering you some mango, commenting on how beautiful the water looked, asking if you wanted more sunscreen, you answered with short nods or turned your attention to Hannah instead. Robby noticed, and after a while, he stood up slowly, brushing sand from his legs.

“I’m gonna take a walk around the resort for a bit. Give you some space.” He looked at Hannah with a soft smile. “You stay with Mommy, okay, angel? I’ll be back soon.”

Hannah nodded, already busy building another small tower on her sandcastle. Robby lingered for a second longer, resting his eyes on you with something regretful in them, before he turned and walked away down the beach path. You watched his back until he disappeared behind the palm trees.

The hours passed slowly, you played with Hannah in the shallow water, built more sandcastles, applied more sunscreen, and read a few chapters of your book while she napped under the umbrella. But your mind kept replaying the scene with the guy, Robby’s jealous interruption, his possessive words, the way he’d looked at you. It stirred up too many old feelings you didn’t want to examine.

 Part of you enjoyed the attention he gave you, the way Robby got possessive whenever another guy even stepped too close. It felt good to be wanted like that. To see him look at you like he still wanted you to be his and his only, even after all this time, even after everything that had happened between you. It was dangerous, how much you liked it. Because it stirred up the same old feelings, the ones that made it so hard to remember why you kept pushing him away in the first place.

Robby returned a couple of hours later, carrying two fresh iced drinks. He approached cautiously and sat down on the edge of your lounger, close but not touching you. “I know you’re pissed,” he said. “And you have every right to be. I overstepped. I was an asshole back there. Jealous and… yeah. I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent for a long moment, staring out at the turquoise water. “You were. You ruined a nice, harmless conversation.”

Robby nodded, accepting it. “I did.” He paused, then offered one of the iced drinks. “I walked by the spa earlier. They have really good reviews. I thought of getting you a massage as an apology. You deserve to relax after everything… and after dealing with me being an idiot.”

You looked at him then, searching his face. His expression was sincere, the usual cocky edge softened by genuine regret. Part of you wanted to stay mad. The other part, the tired nd overworked resident and mother, desperately wanted that massage. “…Fine,” you said eventually. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still annoyed.”

“Understood.” He gave you a small smile.

You left Hannah at the resort’s supervised children’s activity center, a beautiful shaded area with crafts, games, and attentive staff. She was thrilled to join the other kids, waving goodbye without a second thought. 

The spa building was serene and even more luxurious than the rest of the resort. Robby stepped up to the elegant reception desk first. You watched him leaning slightly on the polished wood counter, and the woman on the desk checking the screen and nodding. 

After a couple of seconds, Robby came back to you. “Okay, it’s all settled. I’m gonna head back, maybe hit the pool with the bar. Enjoy your massage. You deserve it.”

Before Robby had any time to head to the door, a masseuse in a white uniform approached you both. She offered a welcoming smile. “Okay, beautiful couple, ready for your couple’s massage? We have the ocean-view room prepared with the full aromatherapy package you selected. It’s one of our most popular experiences.”

You froze right there and then, the word “couple” hitting you like cold water. Your stomach tightened instantly, a rush of irritation flooding through you. “Robby,” you said, turning to him. “What the hell did you do now?”

He looked genuinely surprised, his eyes widening as he raised both hands in a surrender gesture. “I swear I don’t know,” he said quickly, sounding sincere for once. “I just booked a regular massage for you. I didn’t say anything about a couple’s anything. I was very clear, one person, one massage.”

The masseuse glanced between the two of you, still smiling politely, completely unfazed by the sudden tension. “It’s our signature couples experience, side-by-side tables, synchronized massage, and a glass of champagne afterward. Very romantic and relaxing. Perfect for reconnecting.”

Before you could refuse, clarify, or even form a full protest, the staff were already guiding you both forward with efficiency. They led you down a quiet, incense-scented hallway that opened into a treatment room. Two massage tables stood side by side in the center, candles flickering all around the room and towels folded neatly.

Your heart was racing now, a mix of irritation at Robby and anticipation because soon he would be shirtless again, lying only a few feet away while you were both having a “couple experience” when all you needed was to be as far away as possible from the concept of you and Robby being a couple. Your brain was already getting all these confused, dangerous feelings after spending so much time together, the laughter, the casual touches, the way the three of you looked like a real family from the outside. The last thing you needed right now was to keep doing couple activities. Every shared dinner, every walk along the beach, only made the line between co-parents. You were supposed to be keeping your distance.

You turned to him. “This is not what I agreed to, Robby.”

He looked almost sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “I really did just ask for one massage. But… we’re here now. Might as well enjoy it?”

The masseuses were already moving, preparing the oils, laying out fresh towels, adjusting the temperature and lighting.

On of them smiled gently. “If you’d both like to remove your clothes to your comfort level and lie face down on the tables, we’ll begin with the back and shoulders. Take your time.”

Robby glanced at you, reading the hesitation in your posture. He gave a reassuring nod. “I’ll go first,” he said quietly, and stepped behind the simple privacy screen they had provided. 

You heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his shirt and trunks. You turned around quickly, facing the wall to avoid the sight of his fully naked body, one you knew far too well and that still had the exact same devastating effect on you. Definitely not the kind of reaction you needed when you were supposed to be relaxing. But even with your back to him, the knowledge that he was right there in the same room, completely bare, got your heart beating fast. 

When he emerged and lay face down on the right-hand table, he draped the sheet modestly over his lower half. You couldn’t help but notice the familiar lines of his back, his strong shoulders, the soft curve where his waist met his hips. Your turn came next, you stepped behind the screen, your fingers slightly unsteady as you untied the bikini top and stepped out of the bottoms. The cool air kissed your bare skin, you wrapped yourself quickly in one of the large, warmed towels and moved to the left table, lying face down.

You turned your head to the side, away from Robby, trying to steady your breathing. The masseuses worked in sync. Pouring warm oil first, spreading it with their fingers, starting at your shoulders and working downward in long strokes. The pressure was perfect — deep enough to melt the knots from endless shifts, gentle enough to feel indulgent. Beside you, Robby let out a low sound of relief as his own masseuse began. The sound sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine, you knew that voice too well, one you’d heard far too many times.

One of the masseuses, an older woman, spoke softly as she worked on your upper back. “You two make a lovely couple. Have you been together a long time?”

Robby answered before you could explain how you weren’t a couple, you two had ended here after a complicated series of events. “Five years.”

You opened your eyes, staring at the white sheet beneath you. “We’re not really together,” you corrected quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

Robby let out a soft chuckle from the next table. “It’s more like an on-and-off thing.”

You turned your head slightly toward him, the irritation mixing with the pleasure of the massage, an experience that was supposed to be relaxing, but now was irritating due to Robby’s presence. “It’s mostly off than on, really.”

The younger masseuse working on Robby smiled as she kneaded his shoulders. “Ah, but you are here together now. That counts for something, no?”

The older woman on your side pressed deeper into a knot between your shoulder blades, drawing a quiet sigh from you. “You make a good couple,” she said warmly. “I have seen many couples working here, but not many where the man looks at the woman the way he looks at you. It’s very special.”

You let out a small, skeptical laugh, the sound muffled against the face cradle. “I find that hard to believe.”

Robby’s voice came from beside you. “I look at her like she’s the second most precious thing in this entire world.”

The masseuses both made soft. The younger one asked curiously, “Why second?”

Robby didn’t hesitate. “Becuse the first one is the daughter she gave me five years ago.”

A soft chorus of “Awww” filled the room. You could practically feel the women melting at his words. The older masseuse patted your shoulder gently. “That is beautiful. A man who knows what he has.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, a confusing mix of embarrassment, irritation, and something warmer that his words always managed to make you feel. “He’s a flatterer,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice light. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s very good at saying the right things.”

Robby chuckled again. “Only when it’s true.”

The synchronized rhythm of the massage created an oddly intimate atmosphere. When your masseuse dug into a tight knot between your shoulder blades, Robby’s masseuse did the same at the exact same moment. The sensation of feeling your own body release tension while hearing his quiet groans of pleasure made the room feel smaller, more charged. Time stretched. You found yourself relaxing despite everything, the ocean view, the scent of the oils, the pressure, until the masseuse gently asked you to turn over. You hesitated for a second before complying, keeping the sheet carefully draped over your chest as you rolled onto your back. Robby turned at the same moment, and for a brief second, your eyes met across the small space between the tables. His gaze was dark, but you looked away quickly, focusing on the ceiling and the glow of the candles.

The front massage was somehow even more intimate, oil poured across your collarbones, your arms, your legs. The masseuse’s hands worked slowly up your thighs, careful and professional, but the proximity of Robby, who was lying there with his eyes sometimes closed, sometimes open and watching the ceiling, made every touch feel amplified. 

The older masseuse spoke again softly as she massaged your temples. “It is good to see a family taking time together. These moments are precious.”

You stayed silent this time, and Robby’s quiet reply came a moment later. “They are. It took me a while to realize there’s nothing more important than my family.”

When the massage ended, the masseuses quietly stepped out, leaving you and Robby alone in the treatment room. Robes had been provided, and two elegant flutes of champagne with fresh strawberries and raspberries waited on a small table between the two massage tables. You sat up slowly, wrapping the white robe tightly around yourself. Robby did the same on his table, the robe hanging open just enough to show his chest.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were the distant waves. Robby reached for the champagne glasses and handed one to you. He clinked his glass gently against yours.

“To surviving the rest of this trip,” he said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Robby leaned back against the edge of his table, watching you. The robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, revealing more of his chest. “No matter how much you try to pretend you hate spending time with me… I know you secretly enjoy it. We get along. We have fun together. You know there’s this… connection between us.”

You stared into your glass, watching the bubbles rise. You took a sip before answering. “You’re wrong. The only reason we keep spending time together is because you pull this shit all the time. This wasn’t what I agreed to. I asked for separate rooms, no couple activities. You keep lying to me and manipulating everything because you have this fantasy that I’ll magically get back with you just because you paid for some expensive vacation.”

Robby set his glass down slowly. He didn’t look defensive. Instead, his expression was open, almost vulnerable. “I didn’t get a couple’s massage. I swear. I asked for one massage for you.”

You raised an eyebrow, the champagne making your cheeks feel warmer. “What about the hotel room mix-up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe… I didn’t correct the receptionist when he gave me only one room.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Robby looked at you then. “I’m in love,” he said simply. “Crazy in love with you. And every single day, every second I spend with you it just gets bigger and bigger. I can’t help it.”

The confession hung between you. You wanted to push back, to stay angry, but the massage had stripped away too many defenses. You knew you could pack your suitcase right now. You knew you could call a taxi, get to the airport, and buy the fastest ticket back home. But part of you didn’t. Part of you longed to stay and see what the next thing Robby would do, how far he’d go to win you back, how much he was willing to risk this time, and whether he truly meant it. The worst part of it all was how little you actually wanted to run away from him.

“You can’t deny the massage was nice,” Robby added quietly.

You took another slow sip of champagne. The truth slipped out before you could stop it. “It felt good,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “Really good.”

The next day you woke to Hannah’s excited bouncing on the bed and Robby’s chuckle from the other side of the room. After a leisurely breakfast on the balcony while watching the ocean, the three of you headed to the resort’s massive water park, full of slides, lazy rivers, and splash zones. Hannah’s eyes were wide with wonder as she ran from one attraction to the next.

You spent hours in the shallow kids’ area first, where sprays of water misted over mushroom fountains. Hannah laughed uncontrollably as she darted through the sprays. Robby lifted her onto his shoulders so she could reach higher sprays, both of them soaked and beaming.

Later, you moved to the lazy river, the three of you floated together on a large raft, the current carrying you under bridges and past waterfalls. Hannah sat between you and Robby, chattering nonstop about the “big slides” she wanted to try next. Robby’s arm rested casually behind you on the raft, occasionally brushing his fingers over your shoulder. 

You braved a few bigger slides with Hannah while Robby waited at the bottom with open arms to catch her. He went down the steeper ones with her, their laughter echoing as they shot out into the splash pool. You watched from the side, smiling despite yourself at how good he was with her, patient and playful.

By late afternoon, you were all tired, but still decided to head to the open-air resort theater for the karaoke night. The tables were arranged in an arc around a central stage. You sat at a table near the front with Hannah comfortably settled on your lap. She wore her favorite sundress, her hair still slightly damp from the evening shower. In her small hands, she held a colorful fruity mocktail with a paper umbrella and a slice of pineapple on the rim. She watched performer after performer take the stage, clapping enthusiastically for every single one, whether they were hilariously off-key or surprisingly talented.

Robby sat right beside you, he had switched to margaritas after dinner and was now on his third or fourth. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink, and his smile came easier, the alcohol had softened the edges that usually existed between you, but you kept your guard firmly in place, hyper-aware of the weight of his arm behind you and the occasional brush of his fingers against your shoulder

The host, a charismatic man stepped up to the microphone scanning the crowd. “Alright, folks, next up we have Michael Robinavitch! Michael, the stage is all yours.”

Your stomach dropped instantly. You froze, asking yourself if you’d heard right, because karaoke was something Robby would never, ever, do. But then again, this wasn’t normal Robby, this was Robby after four margaritas that inhibited any level of self-awareness he had. “Robby… where are you going? What are you doing?”

He stood up with a bright, slightly tipsy smile that lit up his whole face. He leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Hannah’s head, then straightened. “You’ll see,” he said.

He walked toward the stage with confidence, the stage lights catching on the slight sway in his step from the margaritas. The crowd quieted with anticipation as he took the microphone. For a moment, he just stood there, looking out over the audience, until his eyes found yours across the tables. A heart-stopping smile spread across his face.

“Good evening, everyone,” he began. “My name is Michael Robinavitch.” He scanned the audience again until his gaze locked directly on you. “This song goes out to the love of my life.” He pointed straight at you, and heads turned. Dozens of eyes shifted your way all at once. Heat flooded your face in an instant, a deep and mortifying warmth that burned from your chest all the way to your ears. 

You wanted the sand beneath the theater to open up and swallow you whole. You sank lower in your seat, wishing you could disappear. Robby didn’t stop. “No, not only the love of my life. She’s the woman of my life. She’s the mother of my child. Look at them, aren’t they the most beautiful ladies in the world?”

The crowd let out a collective and heartfelt “Awww.” Some people clapped, a few whistled. Hannah waved happily at her dad from your lap, completely thrilled and oblivious to your embarrassment. “Daddy’s singing for us, Mommy!” she whispered excitedly, bouncing a little.

The opening notes of Aerosmith’s I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing began playing, and Robby’s voice came through the speakers, rough around the edges from the margaritas, but surprisingly in tune despite being a terrible singer. He sang directly to you, keeping his eyes locked on yours the entire time, as if no one else existed.

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing

Watch you smile while you are sleeping

While you’re far away and dreaming…”

Embarrassment burned through every inch of you. Your cheeks were on fire, and you covered your face with one hand, peeking through your fingers. 

“I could spend my life in this sweet surrender

I could stay lost in this moment forever

Where a moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…”

Hannah bounced happily on your lap, clapping along. “Daddy sounds so good! He’s singing for you, Mommy!”

Robby poured everything into the chorus, his voice rising with emotion, and cracking slightly on the high notes but full of feeling.

“Don't wanna close my eyes

I don't wanna to fall asleep

'Cause I'd miss you baby

And I don't wanna miss a thing…”

He pointed at you and Hannah again during the song, his gaze never wavering. The crowd was completely swept up, some singing along, others watching the three of you with fond, smiling faces. You felt painfully exposed, seen in a way that terrified you, and yet terrifyingly wanted and loved in front of all these strangers. 

When the final notes faded, the audience erupted in loud applause and cheers. He gave a small, humble bow, grinning widely. He didn’t step off the stage immediately, instead, he raised the microphone again. “Thank you,” he said, smiling at the crowd. “I just want to say one more thing before I go. I was an idiot. I did some things I regret. I let fear and work, and my own stubbornness get in the way of the best things in my life.” He looked straight at you. “But this woman right here… and our beautiful daughter… they are the best thing that ever happened to me. All I want is another chance to fix it. To do it right this time.”

The crowd reacted instantly, followed by scattered cheers and shouts of encouragement. Someone near the back yelled, “Give the man another chance!” More voices joined in, “Yeah, go for it!” until it became a playful chant rippling across the theater. 

Robby finally stepped off the stage, making his way back to your table amid the lingering applause. Hannah launched herself into his arms the moment he sat down. “Daddy! You sang so good for Mommy!”

You stared at him, your heart still racing from the public love declaration and the serenade. You leaned in close so only he could hear. “You’re an idiot, Robby.”

He turned to you, so close that the scent of tequila and his cologne wrapped around you again. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.” 

You wanted to push him away, to stay angry about the public spectacle and the way he kept blurring every boundary. But with Hannah happily chattering between you two about how “Daddy is the best singer ever,” and the crowd still occasionally glancing your way with fond smiles, it was impossible to ignore the pull.

 “Every single word was true.” He brushed your shoulder gently. “I lost so many years, so much time, so many memories I let go because of how I felt, and now the thought of missing one single moment with you kills me. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”

You had to blink back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. For the first time, you believed every single word that left his lips, no doubting, no second-guessing, no walls left to hide behind. After days of fighting him, of pushing back against every word and lingering touch, all you wanted was to pull him close, to bury your face in his chest and tell him you wanted the same thing. That every second you’d wasted fighting him was a second the two of you could have been together, laughing, touching. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” you swallowed. “When you’re not four margaritas in.”

The next morning, you woke before Hannah. You glanced at Robby in the other queen bed. He was still asleep, lying on his back with one arm draped over his stomach, the sheet low on his hips. You moved quietly and sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. For a long moment you just watched him, the morning light highlighting the white hair on his jaw and the lines around his eyes. 

Then Robby stirred, fluttering his eyes open slowly, focusing on you with sleepy confusion that quickly shifted into something softer, almost disbelieving. “Am I dreaming?” he murmured as he blinked a few times, pushing himself up on one elbow. “Why are you in bed with me?”

You stayed seated on the edge with your hands in your lap. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

He rubbed his face with one hand, still half-asleep. “We went to the water park? Hannah loved the slides…”

“Not that, idiot,” you said quietly, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Later. The karaoke.”

Robby froze. His eyes widened as the memories clearly flooded back. He let out a long groan and dropped back onto the pillow, covering his face with both hands. “Oh yeah… Jesus. I can’t believe I did that.”

“I bet you’re regretting it now.”

He lowered his hands slowly. “I might be deeply embarrassed. But I don’t regret it. I wanted to do something romantic for you. Something that showed you how I feel.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light even as your pulse quickened. “Yeah? Nothing more romantic than singing off-key Aerosmith in front of a hundred strangers.”

Robby chuckled and pushed himself up to sit against the headboard. “Come on, it wasn’t that off-key.” His eyes met yours. “I meant every single word I said. About not wanting to miss another second without you. About you and Hannah being the best things that ever happened to me. About wanting another chance.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest, breaking down your defences more and more each day. “I heard you loud and clear, Robby.”

Hannah stirred slightly in the other bed but didn’t wake. You stood up slowly, smoothing your sleep shirt. “I’m gonna head to the pools for a bit before she wakes up.”

Robby sat up straighter. “You can’t.”

You turned back to him, raising your eyebrow. “Why not?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish again. “Yesterday I… booked us dancing lessons on the beach. Salsa. For this morning.”

You stared at him. “And why the hell did you do that? Why didn’t you ask me first? I don’t wanna go.”

He let out a helpless laugh. “I don’t know. I was drunk and thought dancing salsa with you on the beach sounded like a great idea at the time.”

You crossed your arms. “Well, I’m not going.”

“Please go with me,” he said wofter now, almost pleading. He looked at you with those warm brown eyes that had always been able to weaken your resolve. “I’ll behave. I promise. Otherwise I’m gonna have to dance with the teacher, and that would be even more embarrassing than last night.”

You stood there in the quiet morning light, part of you still wanted to say no, to keep the boundaries firm, to protect the distance you’d fought so hard to maintain. But you knew if it wasn’t this, then he’d simply come up with another way of putting the two of you together in another situation. Being with him for these days had softened you more than you cared to admit, it had all worn down your defenses. And after every honest word he’d laid bare last night, combined with the way he was looking at you now with that sheepish, boyish smile and those earnest eyes that always saw straight through you, it made it very hard to keep saying no.

After dropping Hannah off at the resort’s supervised kids’ activities center, where she immediately ran off with a group of children to do crafts and play games, you and Robby walked the shaded pathways toward the beach.

The beach dancing area was set up in a beautiful, semi-private cove framed by gently curving palm trees and large rocks. The instructor, a local man, welcomed you both with open arms. “Perfect timing!. Come, come, partners, face each other. We start with the basic steps.”

Robby was a terrible dancer. He tried, God, he tried so hard, but his movements were initially stiff and awkward, his hips resisting the rhythm. He settled his hands on your bare waist with visible hesitation at first, but that hesitation quickly melted into something much hungrier. 

The first time the instructor called for a basic side step and Robby pulled you in, he pressed his palm firmly against the small of your back, splaying his fingers wide as if he needed to feel as much of you as possible. 

The heat of his touch burned straight through your skin, sending a spark racing up your spine. “Like this?” Robby asked the instructor as he attempted the next step.

His thigh accidentally slid between your legs for balance during a turn, pressing close for a second longer than necessary. You felt the warmth of him, the subtle shift of his hips, and heat pooled in your belly.

The instructor laughed good-naturedly. “Looser hips, my friend! Feel the music. Let it move you.”

Robby tried again, pulling you closer on the next basic. He brushed his chest against yours with every step, the thin fabric of his shirt and your bikini top did nothing to hide the heat of his body.

“This is harder than it looks,” he muttered close to your ear, his breath warm against your neck. He slid his hand a little lower on your back, digging his fingers in with hunger. “But I like having an excuse to hold you like this.”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the beat. “You’re terrible at this.”

He grinned as he dipped you slightly on the instructor’s cue. “But I’m trying. For you.” 

His body was pressed flush against yours, his hips rolling in what was supposed to be a salsa step but felt far more intimate. The subtle grind, the way his thigh stayed between yours for balance, the hungry way in which he dropped his to your mouth and lower, to the swell of your breasts, made your skin tingle everywhere he touched. 

Your pulse thundered in your ears, almost drowning out the music. Every turn, every close hold, every time his hands guided your hips, the tension built higher. He traced possessive circles on your lower back with his fingers. When the music slowed for a moment to practice a more sensual move, he looked down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, like he wanted to devour every inch of you right there on the sand in front of everyone.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You’d tried to fight every single advance he’d made since you both arrived. You’d tried to ignore the way he looked, more tan from the sun, those charming freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, his soft body on full display in nothing but swim trunks. You’d tried to pretend you weren’t affected by the flood of memories rushing back every time he got close, or by the fantasies of what life could look like if you finally let him in. And you were bone-tired of pretending you didn’t want the same thing. Exhausted from denying yourself what your body craved so much, his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing you down, the way only he could make you fel.

Mid-step, you grabbed Robby’s hand tightly and started walking, pulling him firmly away from the group and down the beach. The ocean breeze tried cooling the flush on your skin but did nothing to calm the fire in your belly.

Robby stumbled slightly to keep up, surprised but not resisting. “Where are we going?”

You didn’t slow down, already scanning the shoreline ahead. “We’re going to have sex.”

He let out a startled and deep laugh that sent another shiver racing through you. A second later the laugh faded into pure disbelief. “Wait… are you serious?”

You kept walking, your breath coming faster as the arousal intensified with every second that went by without feeling Robby’s touch. “Yes, Michael.”

Robby’s grip on your hand tightened. “Let’s go back to the room then. No risk of anyone seeing—”

“It’s too far,” you cut him off, your voice breathy with need. “And they’re probably cleaning it right now.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, half-aroused, half-amused. “So what? We’re doing it in the wild?”

You glanced back at him, the corner of your mouth twitching despite the heat flooding your body. “Michael, it’s the beach, not the wilderness.”

“Excuse me,” he said, still laughing softly but with clear hunger in his eyes, “But I really like this resort. I don’t want to get banned for life from this chain.”

You stopped for a second, turning to look at him fully. Your voice dropped to a more direct and impatient tone. “You wanna fuck or not?”

His expression shifted instantly, completely undone. “Yes please.”

“Good, then stop complaining.” You kept walking until you found a good spot: a small, semi-secluded cove partially shielded by large rocks and leaning palm trees. The sand here was softer, shaded in patches by the foliage, with a clear but private view of the ocean. You pulled him behind the largest rock formation and Robby followed without hesitation, his hands already sliding to your waist the moment you stopped. The hunger in his touch matched the fire burning in your veins. He pressed you back against the smooth, sun-warmed rock, his body crowding yours, mouth hovering just inches from yours, breath ragged. The tension that had been building since the massage, since the karaoke, since the entire trip finally snapped.

The moment you pulled Robby behind the large, sun-warmed rock, the rest of the world fell away, all that existed was the heat between you, the desperate need that had been simmering since the very beginning of this trip.

You surged forward and kissed him. Robby met you instantly, a hungry sound rumbling in his chest as his hands grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. His mouth was hot and demanding, and his fingers dug into your hips with desperation. He kissed you like a man who had been starving ever since the last night you shared together, sweeping his tongue into your mouth, claiming, while he slid one up your back to tangle in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it.

He broke the kiss just enough to breathe against your lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this. Every single night since we got here. I didn’t think it would actually happen.”

You smiled against his mouth, sliding your hands up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. “All your stupid tricks finally worked.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours as he roamed his hands restlessly over your body, down your sides, cupping your ass, pulling you harder against the growing hardness in his swim trunks. “All I did was to try and prove you how much I love you,” he murmured. “I want to be with you. Not just fuck you again. I want everything. You, Hannah, us as a family. That’s all it’s ever been about.”

Your hand slid down between you, palming the hard and thick outline of his cock through the fabric. He hissed sharply, jerking his hips forward into your touch. “It was torture,” he rasped, against your ear, “seeing you in that bikini every single day and not being able to touch you. Not being able to do this.”

You squeezed him gently, stroking the length of him through his trunks. “Maybe I wanted to touch your body too.”

He let out a shaky laugh that turned into a groan as you rubbed your thumb over the fat head. “I know. I could see the way you watched me. You’re not as subtle as you think you are.”

You couldn’t wait any longer. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of Robby’s swim trunks and pushed them down just enough to free him. His cock sprang out, the thick vein along the underside pulsed visibly as you wrapped your hand around the base, your fingers barely able to close fully around his girth. You stroked him slowly from base to tip, savoring the way he throbbed powerfully in your grip. “It’s your fault for having this fucking body,” you whispered. “It’s just my type.”

Robby let his head fall back against the rock with a moan, bucking his hips into your fist. “I was right,” he managed to say. “That guy the other day at the beach… he wasn’t your type, was he?”

You swept your thumb over the head on every upstroke, spreading the leaking precum and making him even wetter. Robby groaned deeply, jerking forward into your fist as you twisted your wrist just the way he liked, squeezing a little tighter on the way back down. “Please. That guy lacked everything I love in you.”

“Fuck… your hand feels so good,” he rasped. “Been dying to feel you touch me again.” He cursed under his breath, gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. 

You sank slowly to your knees in the sand, until Robby’s cock stood right in front of you, flushed a deep, needy red at the head and already leaking a steady bead of precum. You looked up at him through your lashes, taking in the sight of him towering above you. 

As you wrapped one hand around the thick base, the heat of him pulsed strongly against your palm, the weight and girth of him making your mouth water. You started slow, torturously slow. Leaning in, you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the leaking tip, tasting the salty, slightly bitter bead of precum that had gathered there. Robby’s hips jerked forward involuntarily as a whimper escaped from his chest. You kissed it again, slower this time, letting your lips linger as you savored the skin stretched tight over the swollen head. 

Then you dragged your tongue in a wet circle around it, tracing every ridge and vein, feeling the way he twitched and throbbed against your tongue with every pass. “Fuck… baby,” he groaned, already wrecked and sounding hoarse. One of his hands came down to gently grab your hair, trembling slightly as his fingers carded through the strands. “Come on… please… Take a little more, baby.”

You smiled against the slick head, barely parting your lips to take just the tip into the wet heat of your mouth. You sucked gently, swirling your tongue lazily around him, giving him only the lightest, teasing pressure. Robby’s moan was loud and needy, his thighs were trembling as he fought the powerful urge to thrust deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to speak, brushing your lips still against the glistening tip, a thin string of saliva connecting you. “You’ve been thinking about this the whole trip, haven’t you?” 

Robby closed his eyes for a second and nodded, almost like he was in pain. Then you took him deeper, sucking more of his length into your mouth. You hollowed our cheeks as you worked him with deliberate bobs of your head, savoring every inch. The taste of him, the salty skin that was so uniquely Robby, made you moan around his cock. The vibration drew another loud, desperate whimper from deep in his throat. 

You remembered every little trick he used to love from years ago, the way he liked the flat of your tongue pressing firmly along the sensitive underside, followed immediately by soothing suction, the way you hollowed your cheeks on the upstroke to create that perfect tight pressure. You did them all, eagerly and hungrily, losing yourself in the heavy weight of him on your tongue and the broken, needy sounds he couldn’t hold back no matter how hard he tried.

You slid your free hand between his spread legs, cupping and gently rolling his heavy balls, massaging them with careful pressure. Robby’s head fell back against the rock with a guttural groan that was almost too loud for the public setting. His hips stuttered forward, chasing the wet heat of your mouth as he fought for control.

“God… your mouth,” he panted, forcing his eyes to stay open. He couldn’t stop watching you, the way your lips stretched obscenely around his cock, the spit glistening on your chin and dripping down his shaft, the lust-drunk look in your eyes as you took him deeper with every bob of your head. “I can’t… fuck. You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me.”

You moaned again around him, and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing the dark, untrimmed hair at his base, holding him there for a long moment while your throat worked around him. You continued playing with his balls, gently tugging and rolling them, feeling them draw up tight as his pleasure built. 

Robby’s whimpers turned into full, unrestrained moans. He tightened his fingers almost painfully in your hair as he began rocking his hips shallowly, fucking your mouth with tiny movements. Spit dripped down your chin, coating your hand as you stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach, twisting your wrist on every upstroke just the way he liked.

You pulled off just enough to gasp for air, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his throbbing cock. “You gotta be quiet,” you whispered, “if you don’t want to attract an audience.”

Robby let out a shaky laugh that quickly dissolved into another deep moan as you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his cock, tongue pressing firmly against the thick vein there.

“I can’t… I can’t be quiet when I’m finally feeling your mouth again. Fuck, I’ve missed this so much. Missed you so fucking much.”

You took him back in without warning, sucking harder and faster now. Robby’s moans grew louder, more needy, his body trembling as he fought the edge, his thighs shaking beside your head. “Baby… I’m close,” he warned, stuttering his hips forward. “So fucking close—”

You kept going, eager to push him over the edge, dying to feel his thick load flooding your mouth, but Robby suddenly pulled you off with a desperate groan. He hauled you up to your feet with strength. His cock, slick and throbbing and coated in your spit, pressed against your stomach. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Not like this. I want more. I want all of you.”

With a growl, he spun you around, pressing your front firmly against the rock. Your cheek rested against the stone as he yanked the ties of your bikini bottoms loose with impatient fingers until the fabric slid down your legs and pooled at your ankles. You kicked it aside impatiently, leaving yourself completely bare from the waist down. 

One of Robby’s large hands slid up your body from behind, slipping under the fabric of your bikini top. His palm was hot as it cupped your breast fully, squeezing the soft flesh with blatant hunger. He found your already hard nipple and rolled it slowly between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks of pleasure shooting straight down to your dripping core. You gasped, arching your back and pressing your breast harder into his hand, craving more of that delicious sting.

At the same time, he dipped his other hand between your legs from behind, dragging two thick fingers teasingly through your soaked folds, parting them and spreading your slick arousal everywhere. The wetness coated his fingers as he explored you, rubbing up and down your slit before finally finding your puffy clit. He circled it with the pad of his middle finger, pressing it just right, making your thighs tremble and your knees threaten to buckle against the rock. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” his voice was rough with lust. “This pussy is dripping for me already. You’ve been aching for my cock, huh?”

You moaned loudly and pushed back against his hand desperately. “Robby… I can’t wait anymore,” you gasped. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”

He pressed a wet kiss to the back of your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth possessively. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned.

You felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against your entrance, sliding through your slick folds once, twice, teasing you both. Then, with one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you.

The stretch was like something you never felt before, overwhelming and full, exactly what you’d been craving for days. Robby filled you completely, his cock dragged against every spot inside as he bottomed out with a satisfied groan. 

He stayed there for a long moment, buried to the hilt, both of you breathing hard together, his chest pressed flush against your back, one hand still massaging and kneading your breast, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

Then he started moving, he was slow at first, giving you deep and rolling thrusts that let you feel every single inch of him. Robby snapped his hips forward deliberately, driving his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. The wet sound of skin meeting skin mixed beautifully with the waves and your shared, breathy moans. 

Robby’s grip on your hip tightened as he gradually picked up the pace, fucking you harder, deeper. “God, you feel so fucking good,” he groaned right against your ear. One of his hands left your breast, sliding down your body until it reached your ass. He grabbed a full, greedy handful of the rounded flesh, squeezing hard enough to leave marks as he spread you open wider for him, pulling your cheeks apart so he could watch every inch of his cock as it disappeared inside your greedy pussy. Your arousal coated his shaft, strings of wetness connecting you every time he pulled back, only to slam in deeper. “So tight… so wet for me. Been thinking about this pussy every single day on this trip. You’re creaming all over me, baby. Can you feel how deep I am?”

You moaned loudly, pushing back to meet every powerful thrust. The rock was warm against your front, your breasts kept rubbing against it with every movement. He leaned over you more, changing the angle so he could fuck you even deeper, snapping his hips forward with raw purpose now. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear. “This pussy is mine. You’re mine. Say it.”

You could only moan in response at first, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. “Y-yours.”

He grabbed your hips with both hands, digging his fingers in hard as he pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust. “Fuck, Robby… harder,” you gasped, still pushing back against him. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he growled, slamming into you deeper. “Not gonna stop until you’re coming all over my cock.”

You moaned louder, unable to hold back. Robby’s hand left your hip and slid up your body, pressing two fingers firmly against your lips. “Suck on them,” he growled hotly against your skin. “Before someone hears how well I’m fucking you. Be a good girl for me.”

You parted your lips obediently, taking his fingers deep into your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, swirling your tongue around the digits just like you had around his cock earlier. Robby groaned deeply at the feeling of your muffled moans against his fingers, his hips slamming into you harder.

With his other hand, Robby found your swollen, aching clit. He pressed his digit firmly against the bundle of nerves, rubbing tight circles with exactly the pressure he knew drove you wild. He alternated between teasing strokes and faster, more insistent ones, never letting the rhythm become predictable. The dual sensation was devastating, not only his cock stretching and pounding into you from behind, but now his fingers working your clit relentlessly. 

“That’s it,” he rasped as he fucked you even deeper. “Suck my fingers while I ruin this pussy. You’re so fucking wet for me. Been thinking of it since the dance lesson, haven’t you? I could feel how soaked you were the whole time I was touching you.”

You moaned around his fingers, the sound vibrating against them as you sucked harder. Your legs shook uncontrollably. “Come for me,” he rubbed your clit faster and harder. “I want to feel you squeezing my cock when you cum. Let me feel how much you need this. How much you’ve been aching for me.”

The tension snapped, your orgasm crashing over you hard and suddenly. You cried out around his fingers, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his thick cock, fluttering and squeezing him tightly as waves of overwhelming pleasure rolled through your entire body. 

Robby’s thrusts grew erratic as he chased his own release. “Fuck… you feel so good when you cum. So tight. I’m so close, baby.” He kept fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out with deep strokes, his fingers still rubbing your oversensitive clit in gentler circles. His voice was completely wrecked when he spoke again. “Can I finish inside? Please… I need to fill you up. I need to cum inside you.”

You pulled off his fingers just enough to gasp out. “Yes. Cum inside me. Fill me up, Robby. I want it so much.”

That was all he needed. Robby buried himself as deep as possible with a broken moan as he came. You felt every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, hot ropes of cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He kept thrusting through it, as if he wanted to push every single drop of his fat load as far inside you as possible. His body trembled against yours as he pressed his forehead to the back of your neck, breathing raggedly against your sweat-slicked skin.

Robby wrapped his arms around you from behind, holding you close as he softened inside you, placing lazy kisses along your shoulder and the back of your neck. His cum slowly leaked down your thigh in sticky trails, mixing with your own wetness. 

Eventually, you shifted, feeling the pleasant ache between your legs and the reality of where you were. You reached down, picked up your discarded bikini bottoms from the sand, and slowly tied them back on with slightly shaky fingers. Robby stayed close, resting his hands on your hips, stroking circles with his thumbs as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“We should go pick up Hannah,” you said softly, still sounding a little hoarse.

Robby didn’t move right away, he turned you gently to face him, cupping your face with his hands. “Wait,” he murmured. “What does this mean? Just admit it and stop fooling yourself. Tell me you want this as much as I do. That you want to be with me too. That you never minded sharing a room, or getting a couple’s massage, or taking dancing lessons. Tell me you actually like spending time together like this.”

You looked up at him, the vulnerability in his voice made your chest ache, and after an intense orgasm like the one he’d just given you, you couldn’t even fool yourself. You took a slow breath. “Yes… I do,” you admitted. “I like being with you, Robby. I like the sex. I like how you make me laugh. I like talking to you. I like… all of it.” His eyes lit up with hope, but you continued before he could speak. “But what happens with me? What happens with Hannah if you change your mind? If the charm wears off once we’re back home, dealing with real life.”

Robby’s expression turned serious, almost pained. He cupped your face more firmly, brushing your cheeks. “I wouldn’t go through all of this if I weren’t a hundred percent sure of what I feel and what I want. Hannah is the most important thing in my life. I’d die before hurting her. Or you. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

You searched his eyes, tears pricking at the corners of yours. “How can I believe you?”

He smiled softly, a little sheepish. “I sang in front of a crowd for you. That has to count for something.”

You laughed despite yourself. “This whole trip has been so nice… but real life isn’t a beach resort with massages and dancing lessons.”

Robby pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I want you when you’re tired from work. Sweaty, your hair a mess, exhausted. I want the long nights when we’re both too drained to speak, and the fights when we’re frustrated and still choose each other every single day. I want all of it.” He kissed you softly, then pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Please… I’ve missed so much already, don’t let me miss another thing.”

You smiled, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. You leaned in and kissed him again, slow and deep, full of everything you’d been holding back. When you pulled away, he searched your face with hopeful eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You smiled wider. “It’s a maybe.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time. “Say yes.”

You laughed softly against his lips. “Maybe.”

Another kiss, sweeter. “Yes?”

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes.”

Your reblog doesn’t just support me as a writer, it also helps this reach the people who read the first part, so please consider taking 0.00001 second to click that button, it’s free!!💜

A/N: I feel like, the way it happens in a lot of media, second parts are never quite as good as the first one. But people wanted a second part, and I wanted to write one too, so here’s what I came up with. I hope it wasn’t too long or boring. I’m so thankful for all the love and support the first part got. It genuinely makes me so happy to see that people enjoyed it🥹

There’s honestly so much I could write about these two, but it already felt long as it is. I don’t think I’ll write a third part, to be honest.

@blacpiink @fallout-girl219 @tpwklizzie @tlc3802 @findthebeautyinbreakdowns

“Robby,” you repeated for the millionth time, staring at the way his focused eyes stayed glued to the computer screen. “Robby, are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Your words went in one ear and straight out the other. His attention was completely locked on the patient charts, as if the world had temporarily ceased to exist. 

You let out a quiet sigh, then reached over the nurse station counter, fished a latex glove out of the open cardboard box, and with a quick movement, snapped it right against his back.

“Ouch!” Robby exclaimed, finally jerking his gaze away from the screen. He rubbed the spot where the glove had stung him, looking equal parts surprised and betrayed. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because I’ve been trying to talk to you!” You fought to keep your voice from snapping, though the frustration was definitely leaking through. “Did you call the bouncy castle people already?”

He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a groan. “Yeah, already did. They’re charging me two hundred extra for switching from the unicorn castle to the capybara one with less than a week’s notice, by the way.” He tried to sound annoyed, but it didn’t quite land. Michael loved his daughter far too much for that. If he had to build a goddamn capybara bouncy castle with his own two hands so she could have whatever she wanted in the entire world, he would do it without hesitation. Instead of irritation, his expression softened into something almost endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile at her latest demand.

“And you’re paying for it without complaining because you’re a great father,” you said matter-of-factly, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at your own lips. “Remember, the party’s at three. You still good for setup?”

Robby exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh but not quite. "They're delivering the capybara monstrosity at one-thirty. Said they'd set it up in the backyard." He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if he was remembering what other arrangements he’d made. "Also confirmed the balloon guy with a helium tank, should be there by two."

You nodded, feeling the relief you always felt whenever Robby managed to take care of everything. Co-parenting with Robby has always been like this, efficient, practical, and competent. No missed pickups, no forgotten appointments. He'd never once let your daughter down, even when work tried to swallow him whole.

"And the cake?" you asked because you can't help it, even though you knew the answer.

He gave you a side-eye, the one that said do you even have to ask? "Chocolate with vanilla buttercream, extra sprinkles. Pickup at two-fifteen, I'll swing by after my shift ends, already talked to Shen and he’ll cover for me.”

Five years ago, you were a fourth-year med student rotating in this very department, terrified of screwing up in front of the mighty Dr. Robinavitch. Then Dr. Robinavitch slowly became Dr. Robby to you… and eventually he was just Michael when you were moaning his name under the weight of his body in his bed.

What you and Robby once had was simple, and you both liked it that way. It was the comfort of each other’s company after a brutal shift when neither of you wanted to be alone. No strings, no labels, no complications of being a real couple. No whispered rumors in the hospital about Robby seeing a med student outside of work. No pressure on Robby’s well-known inability to commit to anything more than passionate sex at night and coffee in the morning.

But simple things didn’t always stay simple, especially not when two adults knew exactly how risky it was to keep skipping protection, and neither of you ever felt much enthusiasm about pulling out. “Fuck, this is the last time, Michael,” you’d said more than once, breathless and frustrated. “Why are you nagging me?” he’d reply with a half-smirk, still catching his breath. “I had every intention of pulling out before you wrapped your legs around me like that.”

And that’s exactly how, six months after the first night you slept in Robby’s bed, you found yourself staring at the most terrifying sight you’d ever witnessed in your life: two pink lines on a plastic stick.

The conversation that followed was painfully awkward. You told Robby you were pregnant, and Robby, being who he was, decided it was time to put on his big boy pants and play his cards right. Life had handed him something he never thought he’d get, a baby, a real chance at a family. So he did what any traditional man would do in his position: he settled with you.

You’d moved into his house, and Robby and you had settled into a routine, not as two people who casually slept together on lonely nights, but as partners, and soon-to-be parents.

Robby took you to every single appointment. He insisted on every test to ensure his child’s safety, blended you the best prenatal smoothies, disgusting carrot-and-spinach concoctions that made you gag but that he swore were just what you needed, and even pushed hard for you to take early maternity leave. But of course, you refused, determined to finish your last year of med school before the baby arrived.

The day your daughter was born was the happiest day of Robby’s life. Even now, it still brought him to tears whenever he thought about it, the moment his entire life changed forever, the day he met his greatest love, his reason to keep going, to keep living, to try harder every single day.

But even as Robby put in his best effort to be a boyfriend, it didn’t take long for the fantasy to crumble.  It wasn’t all sunrays and paradise, and after endless long shifts in the ED, endless diapers, and all-night cries that never seemed to stop, you were both running on fumes. It became painfully clear, day after day, that the only reason Robby had decided to settle down with you was because he’d gotten you pregnant.

You could see how unhappy he was. He barely spoke a word to you when he got home from work. He’d just sit on the couch with distant, lost eyes staring at the wall like he was the most miserable person alive. The only times he laughed or smiled were in the presence of his daughter. You couldn’t help but feel crushing guilt for trapping him in a relationship he never truly wanted. Robby had longed for a family and for company, but once he had it, he didn’t know what to do with it.

That’s why, after five months of fights and desperate trying, you decided it was time to do the most noble thing you could: let him go. Set him free instead of keeping him trapped beside you in a pretend marriage he’d only started because he was too considerate to let you raise his daughter alone.

Hannah Robinavitch had never once envied her friends whose parents were still married. She never got sad or asked why the three of you couldn’t just be a normal family. Because she already knew you were one, a little different from the others, maybe, but still a family nonetheless. And having separate parents actually had its perks. It meant two houses, twice as many birthday presents, and two different vacation destinations every single year.

Sunlight slanted through the tall maple trees lining the backyard fence, painting patterns across the grass. Your yard was huge, the short green grass always perfectly maintained, and the swimming pool sparkled with crystal-clear water that seemed to catch every ray of light. It was the kind of house you could never have afforded on a resident’s salary in a million years. But Robby had made sure you and Hannah had it anyway the moment the two of you decided to part ways and break up. He’d never blinked at the money when it came to his daughter. If giving her (and you) the nicest possible place to live during your half of the week with her, in a safe, beautiful neighborhood full of every comfort meant making his baby girl happy, then he would do it without hesitation.

Because fuck, Robby was such a good father. The kind who puts his little girl first and everything else second. He finally had a real reason to take days off work and actually go on vacations. He finally had something to look forward to, a future worth living for: taking care of his daughter, watching her grow up, teaching her things, just being needed by this helpless little angel who still demanded he check under the bed for monsters every single night.

You’d read once that when it came to having children, women should look for a man who would make a good father, not necessarily a good husband. Because love could run out. People broke up. They got divorced. But a child was a lifelong commitment. And you’d won the lottery with Michael, even if sometimes you still wished he could have been as good a partner as he was a father.

The enormous capybara-themed bouncy castle Hannah insisted on dominated the grass as screams of delight and the rhythmic thump-thump of small feet echoed from inside it. All her kindergarten friends chased each other in circles as their parents clustered near the patio tables, drinking iced tea and making polite small talk about preschool and summer camps.

You were on snack duty, refilling the chip bowls, and right on cue, the side gate swung open. Robby stepped through, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, the sleeves catching on the muscles of his forearms, revealing Hannah’s name tattooed on his wrist.

He was carrying a large gift box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The second Hannah’d spotted him, the entire backyard might as well have disappeared.

“Daddy!” She launched herself down the slide so fast the inflatable nearly tipped. She was sprinting with her bare feet on the grass before she even landed properly.

Robby dropped to one knee just in time to catch her as she collided into his chest like a missile. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground for a second, even though she was getting too big for it. She squealed and buried her face in his neck.

“You came! You came!”

“Wouldn’t miss it, babygirl.” He set her down but kept one hand on her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

She was s already eyeing the box. “Is that for me?”

“Depends.” He raised an eyebrow. “You been good?”

“Super duper good! Ask Mommy! I only ate two cupcakes and I shared my shovel in the sandbox with the other kids!”

You caught his eye over her head, and Robby gave you the tiniest smirk, yeah, he knew “two cupcakes” was probably an undercount.

“Guess it’s yours then.” Robby set the box on the grass, and Hannah attacked the paper. A brand-new bike glints in the sunlight, purple with whitewall tires, training wheels already attached, and even a little bell shaped like a flower.

Hannah froze for half a second, then let out a shriek that made half the parents jump. “A BIKE! Daddy, a BIKE!”

She flung herself at him again, hugging him so hard he had to brace himself. He laughed again, softer this time, and rubbed a hand over her back. “Figured it was time for you to have some riding lessons.”

“I can ride it now? Right now?”

He glanced at you for a quick check-in, the way he always does when big decisions happen, and you nod once.

“Yeah, angel,” you said, walking over. “But helmet stays on, and daddy’ll hold your seat until you’re steady.”

Hannah was already trying to climb on, so Robby steadied the bike with one hand, using the other to guide her foot to the pedal. She wobbled the second her weight hit the seat, but she was grinning so wide it looked almost painful.

Robby shot you another look and then crouched beside Hannah again. “Ready?”

She nodded furiously, and Robby started walking her forward, keeping one hand on the seat, the other hovering near her shoulder to steady her in case she fell. She pedaled hard, poking her tongue out in concentration. The bike lurched, straightened, and lurched again. Robby kept pace easily as you watched from the patio steps. The man who once told you, half-asleep after a fifteen-hour shift, that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be anyone’s dad, was now the same man who walked backward in front of a wobbling five-year-old, talking her through every turn.

“Push harder with your right foot… there you go. Look where you want to go, not at the ground. Yeah, just like that.”

Hannah laughed when the bike finally held a straight line for more than three seconds, and Robby let go of the seat, just for a heartbeat, and then grabbed it again when she tipped.

“I did it! I almost did it!”

“You’re doing it,” he corrected her, encouraging like he’d read in so many parenting books. “Keep going.”

They made a loop around the bouncy castle. Parents pulled out phones to snap pictures of her, and someone even started clapping, making Hannah beam like she was crossing a finish line. You felt eyes on you, Robby’s, briefly. He didn’t say anything, but the look told enough: we made this kid. Look at her.

After another lap, he slowed her to a stop near the bouncy castle. She was flushed and sweaty, but utterly triumphant. “Can we take the training wheels off?” she asked immediately.

Robby exhaled a laugh. “Tomorrow, maybe. Today we celebrate the fact you didn’t eat pavement.”

He ruffled her hair, then stood, brushing grass off his jeans. Robby walked over to you, watching Hannah show off her new ride to anyone who’ll listen.

“You good?” He asked you. “You’ve been running this circus solo all afternoon.”

“I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.” You paused, then added softly, “She’s having the best day. Because you’re here.”

He looked at you then, and something about his eyes reminded you of the way he used to look at you when you were falling asleep on his couch with a newborn between you. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

Hannah zoomed past again, ringing the little flower bell. “Five,” he muttered, almost to himself. “How the hell did that happen?”

You didn’t have an answer, you just stood there beside him, your shoulder almost brushing his, watching your daughter ride circles around the backyard.

Two hours later, you were cutting slices out of the chocolate cake while Robby stood right next to you, handing them out to the sugar-desperate kids swarming the table.

You passed another slice to Robby. He took it from your hands, brushing his fingers against yours for a brief second.

“You know, I didn’t see Vet Guy over here,” he said, pulling on a dramatically disappointed face. “Bummer. I was really hoping to finally meet the guy.” You decided to ignore the sarcastic, obviously ill-intended comment. Robby, never one to let silence win, kept going. “I suppose he was busy. Did he have a labradoodle to give a haircut?” He let out a loud, self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled into a deep “Ha!”

“That’s a pet esthetician, you know?” You mumbled, aggressively slicing the knife through the cake. “Vets don’t do haircuts.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he mock-apologized, not even pretending to drop the subject, not when he had weeks’ worth of jokes lined up. “Then I guess he had some high-risk procedure. Open-heart surgery on a hamster, maybe?”

“You’re hilarious, Michael,” you said with your biggest deadpan face. “How long did it take you to come up with that one?”

“Oh, I have plenty more where that came from,” he replied, grinning. “Do you even call him Doctor? I mean, vets aren’t even real doctors.”

“Of course they are!” you shot back with sudden, exaggerated respect for the veterinary profession, purely to piss him off.

Vet guy was nice. You’d met him at the hospital after he came in with a nasty dog bite on his leg. You’d tended to the wound while he respectfully flirted with you, not too hard, not desperate or aggressive, but just enough to make you feel seen. He asked genuine questions about you, shared funny stories from his own job, and somehow managed to pull real smiles out of you even after a brutal shift.

When he asked for your number, intending to take you to what he swore was the best Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, you’d hesitated. You didn’t need more distractions from residency and motherhood. But Dana had insisted you accept. She said you needed to spend time with adults outside the hospital, to do something just for yourself, and to let yourself be treated nicely for one night. Secretly, you knew she was cracking up at the way Robby’s jealousy flared every time Vet guy flirted with you, the way he clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes like a petulant child.

You’d gone out with him a couple of times. It was fun. He was a gentleman, smart, funny, handsome, the type of man most women would be thrilled to stumble upon. But then your stupid, stupid brain did that awful thing it always did whenever you started seeing someone new: it compared him to Robby. Robby would’ve ordered that. Robby would’ve said that. Robby would’ve done that. As if your brain had never gotten the memo that you and Robby had broken up. That it hadn’t worked. That you were supposed to be looking for a guy who wasn’t like him at all.

“Oh, please. WE are doctors. They’re frauds.” Robby scoffed. “What’s that guy’s biggest life achievement? Getting vomited on by a dog?”

“You’ve clearly thought a lot about a guy I’ve only gone out with like two times,” you offered him your fakest smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the one dating him, not me.”

Robby’s expression, which up until that moment had been mocking and sleazy, changed completely. His smile flattened into a thin, straight line, and his eyes turned serious. “Funny,” he mumbled as he handed another slice of cake to a waiting kid.

“And to answer your question, no, I wasn’t gonna bring some random guy I had dinner with a couple of times to my daughter’s birthday. You know me better than that.”

He didn’t say anything else. Robby knew you were right, you weren’t the type of person who introduced someone new into Hannah’s life unless it was truly serious. But behind all the mockery and cheap jokes, there was something dangerously close to jealousy. The thought of you deciding another man was better than him, more worthy of your time and interest, the idea of Hannah ever having a stepdad, of him no longer being the only male figure in both your lives… it infuriated him.

Was he an asshole for wanting to keep you all to himself when he had no right to demand to be the only man in your life? Maybe. Was he stupid to pretend that a gorgeous, smart, and amazing woman like you would stay single forever, living on the memory of what you two once were, waiting for him to finally grow a pair of balls and give you what you deserved? The same thing he’d had every chance to give you years ago, but had been too scared to reach for, letting it slip away Definitely.

As the party came to an end, kids hugged, and parents collected backpacks and stray shoes, mumbling thank yous to you and Robby.

You stood by the gate, waving and promising playdates. Robby was on Hannah duty now, helping her say goodbye to each friend, crouching so he was eye-level, reminding her to say “thank you for coming.”

Most of the crowd thinned out quickly, a few stragglers lingered, one of them was Ethan, father of Mia, one of Hanna’s closest friends from the four-year-old room. Divorced last year, or so the gossip went. Nice enough guy. Tall, with an easy smile. He was hanging back near the patio table, helping stack chairs while his daughter ran one last lap around the bouncy castle.

You walked over to grab the last of the empty cups. “Great party,” he said, straightening up. “Hanna’s in heaven. That bike was a killer gift.”

“Thanks. Robby picked it out.” You smiled, tossing cups into the trash bag. “She’s been begging for one since she saw the big kids riding at the park.”

Ethan nodded, lingering his eyes on your face for a second. “Smart move.” He paused, then added, softer, “You pulled this off like a pro. Solo hosting a kindergarten party? Respect.”

You laughed lightly. “Not entirely solo. Robby’s been here all afternoon.”

“Yeah, I saw.” His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity there, maybe appraisal. “You two seem… good. Co-parenting goals and all that.”

“We manage,” you said neutrally.

He stepped a little closer, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Listen, if you ever want a break from… all of this. I just… figured it might be nice to talk to someone who gets the single-parent thing.” He smiled warmly. “Mia talks about Hannah nonstop. Be good for them to have more playdates. And for us to… catch up. Maybe you could give me some tips for this whole co-parenting lifestyle.”

It wasn’t subtle at all. The way he held eye contact a beat too long, the slight lean, the casual brush of his hand against yours when he handed you a stray napkin. You felt heat creepong up your neck. It wasn’t interest, exactly, just the awkward awareness of being seen that way. 

You opened your mouth to deflect politely. But before you could, behind you, a voice cut in.

“Ethan, right?” Robby was there suddenly, casual as anything, holding Hannah’s new helmet in one hand. “Mia’s dad.”

Ethan straightened, his smile faltering only a fraction like he’d been caught red-handed. “Yeah. Hey, man. Good to see you.”

Robby nodded once. “You too.” He flicked his gaze to you, then back to Ethan. “We’re starting to clean up over here. You need help finding her shoes? Think they’re by the slide.”

Ethan blinked, then laughed it off. “Nah, we’re good. Just saying goodbye.” He looked at you again. “Think about what I said, okay? No rush.” He waved, called for Mia, and headed toward the gate.

You exhaled slowly, but Robby didn’t move. He was quiet for a long minute, then: “Sooo. Ethan.”

You snorted as you started gathering stray plates from the patio table. “Yeah?”

Robby followed, picking up cups without being asked. “Seemed chatty.”

“He’s friendly.”

“Very friendly.” Robby stacked the cups. “Animated, even.”

You glanced at him. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, a sign of how secretly annoyed he was. “Robby.”

“What?” Innocent. It sounded too innocent.

“You’re being nosy. First with vet guy, and now again.”

“I’m making conversation.” He set the stack down. “Guy was all secretive talking in your ear. What’d he want?”

You laughed despite yourself. “None of your business.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“Not bad. Just… standard divorced-dad. He wanted to organize some playdates. The usual.”

Robby nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. “Huh.”

You waited, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up a stray balloon string, winding it around his fingers. “Guy’s got some nerve. Hitting on you in the middle of our kid’s birthday party.”

Our kid. He didn’t say it possessively, just as a fact. You turned to face him fully. “Jealous, Robinavitch?”

He met your eyes without flinching. “Curious,” he corrected. “Big difference.”

“Sure.”

He didn’t deny it. “Anyway,” he said, his voice back to normal without the edge of jealousy in it. “I’ll help deflate that monstrosity in the yard before it blows away. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

After Robby had helped the bouncy castle guys, he hauled the last of the folding chairs back to the garage and carried out three trash bags without being asked. He stepped back into the kitchen through the sliding door. “Hannah's out cold,” he said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t wake her. “Tried to get her to brush her teeth, but she rolled over and kept sleeping.”

You laughed under your breath. “She’ll be up at six tomorrow demanding to ride the bike again.”

“Good luck trying to talk her out of it.” You felt the weight of his gaze as he pushed off the counter. “Anyway, I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.”

You turned the faucet off, drying your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks for everything today. Seriously. She had a great time thanks to you.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Thanks to both of us. We’re a good team.”

You walked him toward the front door. At the door, he stopped, with one hand on the knob as he turned back to you. For a second, he just looked, not at your face, but at all of you.

His eyes started at your bare shoulders where the thin straps of your sundress sat, tracing the line of your collarbone, then they dropped deliberately down the front of the dress. You felt suddenly aware of every inch it covered, and of every inch it didn’t. Robby lingered his gaze on your waist, the flare of your hips, and the hem brushing just above your knees. Then lower, to your legs, and back up again, slower this time, until he met your eyes.

There was heat in the way he looked at you, nothing subtle about the way his eyes roamed your body. It was the look of a man who was remembering exactly what you feel like under his hands, what you tasted like, what sounds you used to make when he was inside you. The kind of look that said he wanted to back you against the nearest wall, hike that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until the only thing either of you could hear was your own breathing and the wet sound of skin against skin.

He didn’t say anything, there was no need for words. Your mouth went dry as the heat coiled in your lower belly, the same way it had many nights before. Five years since you stopped sleeping together. Five years of boundaries, separate beds, separate lives. And still one look was enough to make your body remember. 

He exhaled through his nose, almost an incredulous laugh, “Happy birthday to her,” he said quietly, nodding toward the living room. “We made something good.”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to. “We did.”

The weeks slid by in the same rhythm you’d grown accustomed to: long shifts at the hospital, trying to be a present mom whenever you weren’t buried in charts, and the handoffs with Robby at your house.

It was a Saturday afternoon, the day of Hannah’s ballet recital. You arrived a little early because she had been buzzing about it for weeks, her first real performance after long months of practice. Plus, you appreciated every rare opportunity life gave you to wear something that wasn’t scrubs. You’d gotten your hair done, put on soft makeup, slipped into a nice dress and high heels, and for once you felt like a whole different person. Someone confident. Someone who could take on the world.

You loved Hannah. You loved being a mom. But sometimes you missed the person you used to be before all of this. You missed being seen as more than just “Mom.” You missed conversations with adults that didn’t revolve around kindergarten, tantrums, or pediatric appointments. You were still young, and even though you’d always been mature for your age, you’d had to grow up fast the moment you became a mother. You had never imagined yourself with a child before you even became a doctor. You certainly hadn’t pictured managing residency at the same time you were raising a tiny human being.

But even if life hadn’t turned out the way you’d once planned, you didn’t regret any of the decisions that had brought you here in this auditorium, about to watch your daughter’s ballet recital.

You spotted Robby near the front row, saving seats for the two of you. When he saw you, he stood, waving you over with a half-smile.  “Hey,” he said as you slid into the seat beside him. “She’s backstage, losing her mind. Kept asking if both of us were coming.”

You laughed softly, settling your purse on the floor. “Wouldn’t miss it. Was she nervous?”

“Not one bit. She made me practice clapping in the car.” He glanced at you, his eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. “You look nice.”

You couldn’t avoid feeling the heat creeping up your neck, but you brushed it off. “Thanks. You cleaned up nice, too.”

Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the ballet instructor, a woman in her sixties, welcomed everyone, and then the curtain slowly parted.

There she was. Hannah stood front and center in her pink leotard and tutu, her hair,the same brown shade as Robby’s, pulled into a slightly lopsided bun secured with a sparkly clip. She immediately scanned the audience, spotted the two of you sitting side by side, and her whole face lit up like sunrise. Forgetting every rule about staying still, she waved at you both with both hands.

The routine was equal parts adorable and chaotic, little arms waving with enthusiasm, a few spins that turned into giggles, and tiny dancers bumping into one another. But when it came time for her part in the middle, Hannah nailed it,  twirling with maximum concentration, poking out her tongue slightly the way it always did when she was trying her hardest.

You were grinning so hard your cheeks ached as you recorded the whole thing on your phone, careful not to miss a single moment. Beside you, Robby was doing the same, leaning forward in his seat like he was afraid to miss even one second of his little girl shining under the stage lights.

When it ended, the room erupted in applause. You and Robby were on your feet first, clapping loud enough to drown out half the parents. Hannah beamed, blowing kisses at the audience, then bolting offstage the second she was allowed.

Backstage, Hannah launched herself at you both at once, her arms around your legs and Robby’s in a group hug.

“Did you see me twirl, Mommy? Daddy, did you see?”

“We saw everything,” Robby said, scooping her up in his arms. “You were the best one up there, angel. Hands down.”

“You were perfect,” you whispered, leaning to place a big and loud kiss into her hair. “So proud of you, baby.”

Hannah tugged at your hand. “Can we get ice cream? To celebrate?”

Robby raised an eyebrow at you as if awaiting to see what your answer would be, and silently hoping it’d be a yes.

You smiled. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

He set Hannah down on the floor, then crouched so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her little arms and legs around him tightly, her favorite perch. With a soft grunt and an easy smile, Robby straightened up, carrying her like she weighed nothing.

The three of you headed for the exit together. You walked beside Robby, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his every few steps, but neither of you pulled away. There was something about the way the three of you looked, almost like a picture-perfect family to anyone glancing from the outside. It made your mind loosen the reins on old fantasies: how different life would have been if the three of you had managed to make it work. If being together had been a choice made out of love instead of obligation, the only option he felt he had at the time.

God, how much you still wished things had worked with Robby. What wouldn’t you give to see him truly happy to be with you, instead of miserable the way he looked every time the two of you came home from a long shift.

The ice cream shop had a neon sign flickering “OPEN” in red letters, sticky vinyl booths, and the widest variety of ice cream flavors you’d ever seen. Hannah insisted on extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce on her cone. She was perched between you and Robby on the bench seat, swinging her legs and recounting her ballet routine for the third time.

“I did the spin and everyone clapped SO loud! Did you hear it, Daddy?”

“Loudest ovation in the room,” Robby said, wiping a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. “You owned that stage, babygirl.”

You watched them as you ate your strawberry ice cream cone drizzled with hot fudge. It was uncanny how much Hannah looked like Robby,  like he had been cloned into a tiny, feminine version of himself. The same soft brown hair, the same big, puppy-brown eyes that were easily the warmest you’d ever seen in your life. Eyes you could never say no to, because one single look from them melted your heart every time.

She was already slowing down, the adrenaline from the recital and the sugar rush from the ice cream finally catching up with her. Her head rested heavily against Robby’s shoulder as she munched the last bites of her ice-cream, her little eyelids starting to flutter.

The walk home was only ten minutes, but Hannah's steps turned sluggish halfway there. Robby scooped her up without a word, and she curled against his shoulder as she’d always belonged there, tucking her head under his chin as she fisted her little hand on his shirt.

At your front door, Hannah was completely out, her rosy cheek smooshed against Robby’s collarbone, with her mouth slightly open. You unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside. 

Robby carried her upstairs like she weighed nothing. You followed, watching the careful way he lowered her to the bed, tugged off her ballet slippers and pink tutu, and pulled the covers up. 

Downstairs again, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the house was without her chatter filling it. He stopped a few feet away. “She’s wiped..”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “She had a big day today.”

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “And you… in that dress. You’re punishing me. You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Robby.”

He didn’t back off. Just looked at you in the same way he did the night of the birthday party. Tracing his eyes over the neckline of the dress, the way it hugs your waist, the bare skin of your breasts. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, but your voice came out quieter than you intended. As if part of you didn’t really want him to stop. You longed for the validation, for knowing you were still the woman who drove him insane, the one who made him feel things no one else could, his soft spot, his weakness. 

And for Robby, you still were. Until this day, you were the only one who could bring out the most vulnerable side of him. It wasn’t just the physical part, though God, your body drove him insane. He could still feel the ghost of your skin against his every night when he closed his eyes. It wasn’t the sex either, though in fifty-four years of life he’d never found anyone who felt quite like you did, anyone who made him feel so many things, who woke up the most primitive, most virile part of him.

It was simply you. Your strength when you carried a pregnancy and still worked your ass off for your career. Your quick mind and the way you could deliver a witty comeback that put him in his place when he deserved it. Your competence, something he found extremely attractive, both at work and as a mom. And watching you raise his daughter with a patience and love only you could give, loving her so fiercely with every bone in your body… it made him feel things he’d never felt before.

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me alive.”

He huffed a half-laugh as he stepped closer. “Can’t blame a guy for looking.”

You swallowed, using all the self-restraint you had in your body to stop yourself from jumping into his arms. “Every time we’re close like this, I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.”

He tilted his head. He knew you too well, he could see how much you were trying to be strong and how much you wanted it too. “And why’s that, exactly?”

“Because we tried. We crashed. We hurt each other. We’ve got a kid now, it’s not just us we gotta think of, but her. And we’ve got a good thing going on, we’re good at this.” You gestured between you. “At being her parents. At not screwing it up. Adding… whatever this is… risks that.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Don’t think. Just do what you want.”

You stared at him. “Is that your new motto? ‘Don’t think, just do it?’”

He took another half-step, close enough you could smell the mint from his ice-cream on his breath. “One night,” he said. “Doesn’t have to mean more. Doesn’t have to change anything tomorrow. We used to be so good together. You remember that? Because I do, I remember it every single night.”

Your pulse hammered in your throat, a rhythm that matched the sudden heat blooming in your belly. You remembered it too, every vivid and overwhelming detail.

The kind of chemistry you and Robby had in bed had been like nothing you’d ever experienced before. The way your bodies responded to each other was like they were made for it, instinctive, almost frightening in its intensity. Every single touch felt magnetic and electrifying, sending sparks racing across your skin even from the lightest brush of his fingers. The way he knew exactly how to unravel you, and how you could do the same to him. You had both cried out in pleasure every single time, sounds that echoed in the dark of his bedroom, your bodies slick and trembling, chasing that peak until the world narrowed down to nothing but the two of you.

It was the kind of fire you only find once in a lifetime. But you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t risk setting that fire loose again and burning down the delicate, carefully manufactured system you had built together. For Hannah’s sake, you needed to keep Robby exactly where he was: your co-parent, your reliable partner in raising your daughter, not your lover anymore. One wrong move, one night of giving in to the pull that still crackled between you, and everything could crumble,  the peaceful handoffs, the shared birthdays, the stability Hannah thrived on. You refused to gamble with her sense of security just because your body still remembered how perfectly he once fit against you, how his voice sounded when he fell apart because of you.

 “Of course you’re horny. You just want a quick fuck. I should’ve known.”

His expression flickered, showing a little of something that looked like hurt in his eyes. “Come on. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do want sex,” Robby admitted, “but come on, don’t pretend you don’t want it too. You remember how much fun we used to have.”

He found your waist, pulling you gently against him. You gasped softly as he slid his palms lower, cupping your ass through the fabric, possessive squeezes that send sparks straight through you. He massaged your flesh deliberately, pressing his thumbs in just the right spots, drawing you closer until you were flush against his chest.

“God, I want you,” he murmured against your ear. “So fucking much. Always have. Always will, probably.”

He dug his fingers a little harder into the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with confidence. You were so close that you could already feel the hard outline of his cock pressing insistently against your lower stomach. He was hard for you, just from being this close, just from a few lingering touches. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to give in, not to reach down and palm him over his pants until he groaned into your mouth the way he used to.

“Keep your hands where I can see them, Robinavitch,” you warned, trying to sound threatening. It came out breathy and weak instead. You couldn’t fool anyone, least of all him. You wanted this, maybe even more than he did.

“You don’t want my hands where you can see them,” he replied with that stupid, cocky tone he always slipped into when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “You want them in places you can’t see. You haven’t forgotten how good I am with them, have you? Nah… some things these hands did to you are impossible to forget.”

You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from smiling. Cocky motherfucker.

Finally, with the last scrap of self-control you could muster, you pushed him away. “You had your fun. Time for you to leave.”

“I was barely starting to have fun,” he said with a wicked smile as he took a step back, rubbing one hand over his face. “You, cruel, cruel woman.”

“You’ll live,” you muttered. “Go chase some nurses. They love you. Well… the ones who don’t actually work with you do.”

“You hurt me,” he exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “I don’t have any nurse to chase. And even if I did, nobody could compare to us. You know that.”

“You broke things off with the last one?” you asked in mock surprise, playing dumb. “What was her name? Nora? N… Natalie?”

You knew Robby had had his fair share of affairs throughout the years, nothing too serious, nothing that ever deserved a real conversation, and definitely nothing meaningful enough to introduce to Hannah. Still, it stung. You couldn’t exactly throw it in his face, you’d gone out with people too. But you wished the asshole would keep his flings away from the hospital, away from the place where you had to watch him flash those stupid little smiles and do his little shoe-lace trick for whatever nurse had caught his eye this month. The same way he’d once done it for you.

“I won’t answer to those accusations against me,” he said, shaking his head with a low chuckle. Robby stepped closer again and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Have a good night. I’ll see myself out.”

You couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at your lips as you watched him walk toward the door and finally leave the house. Five years later, and your body still caught fire whenever his hands were on you. Five years later, and you still loved your silly arguments and the way he could make you laugh even when you were pretending to be mad at him. Five years later… and you were still deeply enamored with Michael Robinavitch.

The clock on your nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m. when the first cry cut through the dark.

It wasn’t not the usual sleepy whimper or the “I had a bad dream” whine. It was a sharp sound, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor.

You were out of bed before your brain fully registered it, rushing down the hall. Hannah’s room light was already on, and she was sitting up in bed, with the bedsheets twisted around her legs, her face shiny with sweat, and her eyes glassy because of the tears. There was a small puddle of bile on the rug beside her, and another streak down the front of her pajama top.

“Mommy—”

“I’m here, baby.” You dropped to your knees beside the bed, lifting your hand to her forehead. She was burning, her skin hot enough to make your palm sting. “Oh, sweetheart.”

She leaned heavily into you, her body trembling as another wave hit her. This time it was dry heaves because there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. You lunged for the small trash can under her desk just in time, holding it steady beneath her chin while your other hand gathered her soft brown hair back from her face. With gentleness, you rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back, murmuring the same comforting nonsense you always did in moments like this.

“It’s okay, baby… you’re okay. Mommy’s got you. Just breathe, sweetheart.”

Your voice stayed calm and steady for her sake, but inside, your mind had flipped into full doctor mode, racing through the mental checklist at lightning speed. Fever. Persistent vomiting. She had been fine at bedtime, tired from her long ballet practice, a little sniffly maybe, but nothing that had raised any red flags. 

“Mommy… tummy aches,” Hannah mumbled weakly.

Your heart clenched so hard it hurt. You scooped her up immediately, blanket and all, and carried her to the bathroom. You ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to the back of her neck, hoping the chill would bring some relief. Then you offered her a small sip of water from the cup on the sink. She took it obediently, but almost instantly spat it back out, coughing and whimpering.

Reaching out for the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, you grabbed it and slipped it under her tongue, holding her close while you waited for the beep. 103.8. You managed to get a dose of Tylenol into her, but she could barely keep it down, her whole body shuddered as she fought the nausea, and her teeth chattered from the fever chills as she curled into you even tighter, shaking hard.

Helpless, that’s how you felt, completely helpless. And as a mother, feeling helpless was the worst torture imaginable. You were a doctor, and yet here in your own house, with your own child, there was only so much you could do. The cold washcloths weren’t bringing her temperature down fast enough. The medicine wasn’t staying in her long enough to work. Nothing seemed to help.

You couldn’t stand seeing your baby like this: so pale, so tired, her usual bright energy drained away, her little body trembling in your arms.. In this moment, more than anything, you wished Robby were here. Robby would know exactly what to do. He always did. He’d take one look at her, assess the situation and figure out what was wrong with Hannah right away. He’d fix it the same way he fixed dozens of people every single day in the pitt.

You sat on the edge of the tub with her in your lap, rocking her slowly, trying to keep her calm while you dialed Robby.

He picked up on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but instantly alert when he realized you wouldn’t be calling this late at night if there wasn’t something really urgent going on. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“Hannah’s sick. Fever’s 103.8, she’s been vomiting for the last twenty minutes. Won’t keep anything down. She’s shaking.”

There was the rustle of sheets and the immediate creak of a bedframe on Robby’s end. He was already moving, even half-asleep. You could practically see him sitting up in the dark.

“Okay,” his voice came through the phone. “Did you give her Tylenol?”

“Yes.”

“Motrin too? You should alternate if the fever’s that high.”

“I only have children’s Tylenol here,” you answered. “Motrin’s at your place.”

There was a brief pause, then a quiet “Okay… okay. Alright.” You heard him exhale slowly, the sound of fabric shifting as he moved. “Cool clothes? Cold washcloth on her neck or forehead?”

“I’m trying the cloth right now, but I’m not seeing any changes. The fever won’t come down at all.”

“Are you hydrating her? Give her small sips of water, tiny amounts so she doesn’t throw it right back up.”

“I am,” you said, glancing at the half-empty cup on the bathroom counter. “She’s spitting most of it back up. She can’t keep anything down.”

Another pause stretched between you. Even for a man who could keep ice-cold composure during the most chaotic live-or-die codes in the ED, something in Robby’s voice betrayed how uneasy he really was. You heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on quickly, then the unmistakable jingle of keys.

“So, fever’s still not budging?” he asked.

“Not yet. She’s miserable, Robby. Keeps saying her tummy hurts, and the dry heaves are getting worse. She’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.”

You heard loud, hurried footsteps crossing his floorboards, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing with a firm sound. 

“Take her to the ER. Now.” There was no hesitation left in his words. “I’ll meet you there.”

Your stomach dropped. “You think it’s that bad?”

“I think 103.8 in a five-year-old who can’t keep meds or fluids down is worth getting checked. Could be viral, could be something else. Better be safe.”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Okay. I’ll get her dressed. We’re leaving in five.”

“I’m already in the car. Text me when you’re on the road.”

He hung up, and you moved fast, changing Hannah into fresh pajamas, wiping her face, and wrapping her in the softest blanket she owned. She was listless now, her soft head lolling against your shoulder as small whimpers left her lips every time the nausea rolled through her again. You grabbed her insurance card, your wallet, a spare change of clothes for her, and the little stuffed unicorn she’d been sleeping with every night.

You placed Hannah in her car seat, with her blanket tucked around her. You buckled her in carefully, kissing her hot forehead. “We’re going to see the doctors, okay? Daddy’s meeting us there. You’re gonna feel better soon.”

She just nodded with her eyes half-closed. The drive to the hospital was only fifteen minutes at this hour through the dark and empty streets. You kept one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching back to hold hers. She was quiet except for the occasional gags into the bowl you’d wedged beside her seat.

You pulled into the ambulance bay lot, killed the engine and unbuckled Hannah. She was burning up, her usually light body now felt heavy and limp because of the fever. You wrapped the blanket tighter around her and lifted her carefully into your arms as you hurried toward the sliding glass doors.

They whooshed open, and Lena, the night-shift charge nurse, looked up from the desk. Her face immediately softened with concern the moment she recognized you.

“Hey… oh, honey.” Her voice dropped gently. “Is that Hannah?”

“Fever hit 103.8 at home,” you rattled off, shifting your daughter’s weight higher on your hip, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you were presenting a case, not describing your daughter’s symptoms. “Persistent vomiting, abdominal pain. I gave her Tylenol twenty minutes ago, but no improvement at all.”

Lena nodded briskly, already waving you over. “Bay six. We’ll get vitals right away.”

“Who’s on tonight?” you asked, walking fast down the familiar hallway. “Shen?”

“Dr. Abbot. I’ll send him your way as soon as he’s free.”

“Oh, thank God,” you exhaled, the relief hitting you so hard it made your shoulders sag for a moment. If there was anyone in this entire hospital you’d trust with Hannah besides Robby, it was Jack, Hannah’s godfather. You still remembered the day Robby had asked him to be his daughter’s godfather. The way Jack’s eyes had filled with tears, the two men pulling each other into a tight hug like brothers, like two men who were the only ones who truly understood the weight of this life, the long shifts, the losses, and the rare moments of hope like that one. Abbot had promised right then that he’d always have her back, no matter what.

You were halfway down the hall when Robby rounded the corner. The second his eyes landed on Hannah in your arms, his entire expression shifted to fatherly fear.

“Hey, angel,” he said softly, stepping close. He brushed a gentle hand over her back. “Mom said you’re not feeling good, huh?”

Hannah managed a weak, cracked little “Daddy…” before turning her face back into your neck, hiding from the bright lights and the unfamiliar sounds.

Robby flicked his gaze up to yours, doing that assessing scan he always did, checking not just Hannah, but how you were holding up. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you whispered, though your voice trembled as the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Just… scared. I hate seeing her like this. She’s never been this sick.”

He nodded once. “I’ve got her.”

You handed her over without hesitation. Hannah clung to him immediately, wrapping her small arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder like he was her safe place. Robby carried her the rest of the way into the bay. He laid her down gently on the hospital bed, keeping one hand resting protectively on her stomach while the other smoothed damp strands of hair off her forehead with tenderness.

One of the night-shift nurses stepped in right away and rechecked her temperature. “It’s up to 104.1 now.” Her oxygen saturation was still holding steady, but she was clearly dehydrated, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes a little sunken, her usually rosy cheeks pale.

A couple of seconds later, Abbot strode into the bay, sweeping his eyes over the scene: little Hannah lying on the bed, Robby standing guard on one side, you on the other.

“Hey,” Abbot said, pulling Robby into a quick, one-armed brotherly hug, clapping his back once, and giving you a nod. “Heard our girl was here. Sorry, I was tied up with a gunshot wound, perforated lung. It’s chaos tonight.”

“She’s been throwing up everything, couldn’t even keep the Tylenol down,” Robby reported, giving the facts the way two attendings would, except this time his voice carried an edge of helplessness he rarely showed. He wasn’t the doctor tonight. He was the father. “Fever’s up to 104.1. We should get an IV going, more Tylenol, Zofr—”

“I’ve got this,” Abbot interrupted gently but firmly, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he stepped closer to the bed. He looked down at Hannah with the softest smile, dropping his voice into that sweet, playful tone he saved only for kids. “Hey, Hannah Banana… we’re gonna get you feeling brand new before you even realize, okay?” He offered her a warm smile and the gentlest pinch on her cheek.

“Uncle Jack…” she mumbled, her voice cracking pitifully as another wave of nausea rolled through her.

The nurse started the IV in her tiny hand. Hannah cried out at the poke, a heartbreaking whimper that twisted something deep in your chest. Robby was right there, holding her other hand tightly, talking her through it in that calm voice he used with every scared kid who came through these doors. “Just a little pinch, angel. You’re being so brave. Almost done… that’s my good girl. Daddy’s right here.”

You stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding her foot gently in both hands and rubbing soothing circles over her ankle with your thumb, as if your touch alone could somehow absorb her pain and make it yours instead.

“We’ll keep her under observation for a while, wait for the fever to come down,” Abbot told you both. “I’ll come back in fifteen to check on her again, but she’s in the best hands tonight with the two of you right here.”

“Thank you, Jack,” you said quietly with gratitude. He gave your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.

“Thanks, brother,” Robby added right after you, his hand never leaving Hannah’s hair.

Robby didn’t leave her side for even a second. He didn’t glance at his phone, didn’t step out to grab coffee, didn’t let himself get distracted by anything else. He stayed right there, anchored to the bed, resting one large hand gently on Hannah’s forehead, occasionally stroking her damp hair back from her skin. Every few minutes he’d lean in and murmur soft, ridiculous nonsense to her sleeping body, telling her she was tougher than any superhero, that the doctors here were the absolute best because they all knew her dad, and that meant she was getting the royal treatment, the best care in the house. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Even after everything, this was still who he was when it mattered most: steady, devoted, completely focused on the tiny human you’d made together.

The hours dragged, and eventually, after the second round of meds, Hannah’s fever finally started trending down. It had dropped to 100.7, and for the first time all night, some color began creeping back into her pale cheeks as her chest rose and fell more peacefully under the blanket.

You and Robby were slumped in the two chairs pulled up beside her bed. Robby broke the silence first. “I know what you’re thinking. You did everything right.”

You let out a shaky breath, staring at Hannah’s sleeping face. “Maybe I should’ve brought her sooner. She would’ve gotten better faster.”

He shook his head slowly. “You waited until it was warranted. You’re a doctor. You know the signs.” He reached over without hesitation, covering your hand with his on the shared armrest. His palm was warm and grounding in a way that made your throat tighten. “It’s just viral. She’s gonna be okay.”

Without thinking, you turned your hand over beneath his and laced your fingers through his, holding on tightly. For a moment, you didn’t care what it meant, or what anyone walking past the bay might think if they glanced in and saw the two of you like this, exes, co-parents, sitting together holding hands. The exhaustion of the night had stripped everything down, and right now, all that mattered was that Hannah was improving and Robby was here.

“Thanks for coming,” you whispered, even though you knew the words weren’t really necessary. Robby would drop everything and be anywhere either of you needed him, that had never been in question.

“Always.” He brushed his thumb slowly over your knuckles, a gentle motion. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

By the 6 a.m. check, Hannah’s fever had already dropped to 99.8. The IV fluids had done their job, and she hadn’t vomited anymore, even managed a few sips of apple juice without it coming right back up.

She shifted under the blanket, blinking up at you both. “Mommy? Daddy?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” you whispered, leaning forward to brush her hair back. “How’s your tummy?”

“Better,” she mumbled. “Did uncle Jack cure me?”

“He did.” You smiled, feeling a wave of relief flood through you. “You’re doing great now.”

Robby reached over, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “Morning, angel. You scared us.”

She managed a tiny smile, then winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” He kissed her temple, lingering there for an extra second. “Just glad you’re feeling better.”

Jack came back a moment later for a quick exam and a review of vitals and labs, thankfully nothing alarming. Viral gastroenteritis, most likely, with a febrile response. 

“Thanks for curing me, Uncle Jack,” Hannah said softly with that radiant smile that could melt absolutely anyone in seconds. “You’re the best doctor ever.”

Abbot grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her. “Well, thank you, Hannah Banana. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.”

Robby cleared his throat dramatically from the other side of the bay, crossing his arms. “Second best,” he corrected, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.

“Second best,” Hannah agreed immediately, turning that same sweet, dimpled smile toward Robby now, like she was bestowing him with the highest honor.

“Don’t worry, Hannah,” Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. “I won’t tell your dad that you actually think I’m the better doctor.” He glanced sideways at his best friend with a mischievous glint. “A man with a fragile ego like him couldn’t take it.”

Robby let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head. “Is she clear to go back home?” he asked, his tone shifting into something more serious, though the corner of his mouth still twitched. “See? I’m asking for your professional opinion and everything.”

Jack nodded, glancing once more at the monitor readings before looking back at both of you. “I’d say she can go home. Fever’s trending nicely downward, and she’s keeping fluids down now. Just keep checking her temperature regularly to make sure it stays down. If she starts vomiting again or the fever spikes back up, bring her straight back, but you two already know that better than most.”

Robby stood, stretching his back with a low groan. “I should head out,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Shift starts in thirty. Gotta change, grab coffee, pretend I’m human.”

You looked up at him, still holding Hannah’s hand. “You’re going in?”

He shrugged, like it was obvious. “Someone’s gotta run this place. You—” He nodded toward Hannah, then you. “—should take the day. Go home with her. Get some sleep, keep an eye on her. She’s fine now, but she’s still wiped. And you’ve been up all night.”

You opened your mouth to argue, out of pure habit, mostly. The words were already forming on your tongue, something about not wanting to burden the team, about pulling your weight like everyone else. But they died the instant your eyes landed on Hannah.

She was curled up small on her side in the hospital bed, the blanket tucked around her shoulders. You couldn’t stay away from her, not today. The thought of leaving her for twelve long hours, of being stuck in the ED while she was at home, possibly starting to feel worse again without you to notice the fever creeping back up made your stomach drop. You wouldn’t be able to focus. You wouldn’t feel at ease for even a second. Every patient you saw would be overshadowed by the constant fear that Hannah might need you and you wouldn’t be there to catch it, to bring her right back in.

And honestly… part of you simply wanted the day off. You wanted to take her home, wrap her up in her favorite blanket, and spend the whole day curled together on the couch. Just the two of you. A Disney marathon playing in the background while she rested her head on your chest and you stroked her hair.

So instead of arguing, you closed your mouth and let the silence settle. The decision had already been made the moment you looked at her.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “Okay.”

Robby nodded, satisfied. He leaned down to kiss Hannah’s forehead again. “I’ll come by after shift to see how you’re doing.” He straightened and hesitated for half a second, then reached out and squeezed your shoulder, brushing the side of your neck, just once, before he pulled back. “Text me updates. I’ll turn off silent mode.”

“Will do.”

He lingered for another beat, like he didn’t quite want to leave the room, then turned toward the door. “See you later, angel,” he called softly to Hannah, who was already drifting again.

“Bye, Daddy,” she mumbled, half-asleep.

He gave you one last look, longer than necessary, before slipping out into the hallway. You exhaled slowly, while Robby and Jack handled the last few details with the nurse, you gathered Hannah’s things. 

Home sounded like the best idea you’d had in hours. If there was one thing you truly hated about this life, it was how little time work left you to be the kind of mom you desperately wished you could be. Residency had already demanded so much, and motherhood had taken the rest. Every free moment you managed to carve out, you longed to spend it with Hannah. You didn’t want her to grow up one day and feel like you had missed it,  like you weren’t there for the special moments. You didn’t want her to remember a childhood where her mom was always rushing, always tired, always halfway out the door. 

By the time you pulled into your driveway, Hannah was already dozing in her car seat again. You carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. The house felt wonderfully quiet after the night chaos of the ED. You changed into new pajamas, made her a nest of pillows and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then crawled in beside her, pulling her body against your chest. She stirred just enough to wrap one arm around your waist and mumble, “Mommy, will you stay today?”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Today is just us.”

The rest of the day unfolded slowly. You started with her favorite movie, Encanto, because she never got tired of singing along to every song, no matter if she was just recovering. Hannah curled up with her head in your lap, as you gently played with her hair while she hummed to the songs.

When the movie ended, you made a simple lunch together, something easy on her stomach, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and strawberries. She only ate half, but she kept it down, earning praises from you. After lunch, you moved on to Moana. She sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, occasionally lifting her head to point at the screen and say, “Look, Mommy, the ocean! Can we go to the beach too?” You laughed softly and pulled her closer, letting her rest her cheek against your shoulder.

Robby’s shift ended late, as usual, and by the time he signed out, he was bone-tired, but the pull to check on Hannah overrode everything else. He texted you: Just got off. Coming by to check on her. You home?

Your reply wasquick: Yeah. She’s asleep. Door’s unlocked.

He let himself in quietly, finding you on the couch where you were curled up with a blanket. “Hey,” you whispered. “She crashed about an hour ago. Fever stayed down all day, no more vomiting.”

Robby exhaled, shrugging out of his jacket and walking over. “Good. That’s good.”

You nodded toward the hallway. “You want to peek in on her?”

He did, already heading to Hannah’s room. She was sprawled on her stomach, with one arm flung out and her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Her breathing was deep and even, Robby stood in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her chest rise and fall.

When he came back to the living room, you’d poured two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched, far enough to keep the boundary.

“She looks so much better,” he said quietly. “Color’s back.”

“Yeah.” You tucked your legs under you, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. “I was terrified last night. Thought… I don’t know. Worst-case scenarios kept running through my head.”

He nodded. “Me too. When you called, my heart stopped for a second.”

You took a breath, then another. “You’re a great dad, Robby. You know that, right?”

He glanced at you, surprised by the sudden moment of honesty. “Trying to be.”

“No. You are.” You met his eyes so he could see how much you meant every word that left your lips. “I always knew you would be. Even back when… everything was a mess. When we were still figuring out how to be parents instead of just two people who accidentally made a kid. I saw it in the way you held her the first time. You stepped up. Every single time.”

He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a callus on his palm, like he didn’t know how to take the compliment.

“We might not have planned her. But Hannah got the best possible dad out of the deal.”

Robby swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement of his throat. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that. For giving me her. For making me a dad when I didn’t even know I could be one. When I didn’t even know if I wanted to be alive.” He exhaled, sounding almost like a laugh without humor. “I look at her sometimes and think… how the hell did I get this lucky? She’s smart, she’s kind, she’s fearless. And half of that’s you. But the other half… I get to be part of it. Every day. Because of you.”

The air between you thickened, it was full of years of shared history, good, bad, messy, beautiful. “I still love you for that,” he said quietly. “Not like… not trying to cross lines. Just… I’ll always have love for you. Because you gave me the best thing in my life. And you trusted me with her. That means more than I could ever express.”

“I know. I feel the same way.” You rolled your head to the side, trying to loosen the knot that’d been building since last night. The motion made your neck crack loudly, and it pulled a wince out of you.

Robby lifted his brow. “You okay?”

“Just the couch napping. My neck’s killing me.”

He didn’t hesitate, standing up right away. “Come here.”

You did hesitate for half a heartbeat, long enough to consider the offer. You were too tired to argue, and you knew how good Robby’s hands were, so you stood up from the couch, then turned so your back was to him. He stepped in behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of him before his hands even touched you.

He settled his fingers on your shoulders first, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along the tops of your traps, working in slow circles. You couldn’t help dropping your head forward on a soft exhale, closing your eyes as the pressure hit exactly where you needed it.

“God,” you murmured. “You’re still really good at that.”

He huffsed a quiet laugh against your hair. “Muscle memory.”

Robby moved his hands, working down the column of your neck, tracing the tense line on either side of your spine, then out across your shoulders again. You melt into it without meaning to, dropping your shoulders and slowing your breath as the ache unwound thread by thread.

For a minute, it was just that: his hands on your shoulders. Then he slid his palms lower, intentionally, until they settled at your waist. He pulled you back gently, just enough that he had your back pressed against his chest. 

He brushed his lips along the side of your neck, teasingly soft at first. Then, firmer in a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.

Your pulse jumped immediately at the contact of his lips against your skin. “Robby.”

He didn’t stop. Another kiss, lower this time, along the curve where neck meets shoulder. He tightened his hands on your waist, slipping his thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing your bare skin.

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered but it came out unsteady. 

Robby moved his mouth over your skin. “Then why does it feel so good?”

You didn’t have an answer, you couldn’t think of one that made sense. He kept going, trailing kisses along the side of your throat, sliding one hand up your side, splaying his fingers across your ribs, the other staying firm at your hip, holding you against him. 

You tipped your head back against his shoulder in instinct, and he took the invitation, kissing the exposed line of your throat. Robby drifted his hand higher, brushing the underside of your breast through the fabric. Your hands came up in response, half to stop him, half to hold on, and they landed on his forearms, gripping them.

He murmured against your skin. “Tell me to stop.”

You didn’t stop it. Not one single part of you wanted to. Maybe if you weren’t so bone-deep tired, physically drained from years of resisting him, of constantly convincing yourself that you didn’t want this, that you weren’t aching for this every time he got too close, you might have found the strength to push him away again. To remind yourself of all the careful boundaries you’d built for Hannah’s sake. To remember why this was dangerous.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now you needed Robby. You needed his warmth, you needed his touch, those large, capable hands that knew every inch of your body better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. You needed the intoxicating pleasure only he could ever give you, the rumble of his voice in your ear, and the way he could make you forget every careful reason you’d built to keep him at arm’s length.

The resistance you’d been carrying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold anymore. In this quiet moment all you wanted was to let go. To stop fighting the pull that had never really gone away. To let Robby remind you, just for tonight, how good it felt to be wanted like this.

Under your shirt, one of Robby’s hands cupped the swell of your breast through the fabric of your bra. He traced slow circles over the peak, teasing the nipple into a tight point, making you arch without meaning to, and he rewarded you with a soft bite at the curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck,” you whispered, the curse slipping out before you could stop it.

Robby exhaled a rough laugh against your throat. “There she is.” He sounded proud of getting this reaction out of you, of remembering your body even if it’d been years since the last time he’d touched you.

He palmed your other breast now, both hands working in tandem to knead your flesh, brushing his fingers back and forth until the friction through your bra was almost too much. Your nipples ached, already feeling oversensitive, and every pass of his fingers sent heat straight between your legs. You could feel him behind you, his thick cock rigid, pressing against the small of your back through his jeans. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he rocked forward just enough to let you feel every inch, made your thighs clench.

You should stop this. You knew you should. But your hands were already reaching back, curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hips, holding him closer instead of pushing him away.

He growled with approval, leaving one of your breasts to slide his hand down the front of your body. He was slow, giving you every second to say no.

“When was the last time someone fucked you the way you deserve?” he murmured against your neck, slightly tightening his fingers once he reached your thigh, dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts.

You stayed silent, like part of you didn’t want to admit the truth. Robby didn’t pull back, he kissed your neck again. “Tell me, baby. When was the last time you were properly fucked? Deep and hard like I used to… Until you couldn’t think straight?”

You swallowed once, then answered honestly, barely above a whisper. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the last time we were together. About four years ago.”

Robby stilled completely. He lifted his mouth from your neck like he was waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”

You shook your head. “I’m not.”

He stared at you for a moment, processing the new information. Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath. “What about those guys you’ve dated? The vet? That other guy a year ago, what was he? An engineer? What about him?”

“Two dates, maybe three at most with any of them,” you said quietly. “Never went further. Never slept with any of them. Being a mom and a resident… there’s no time. Between Hannah’s schedule, shifts, studying, and trying to keep everything together, sex just wasn’t a priority.”

Robby tightened his jaw, and a fix of emotions flashed through his face, surprise, heat, and a fierce kind of possessiveness. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You can’t just tell me you haven’t been fucked in four years and expect me to act like it’s nothing.”

Before you could respond, he dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, then under the elastic of your panties. “Four years. Four fucking years without anyone touching you the way you need. Without anyone filling this perfect pussy. I’m gonna leave you so fucking wet and satisfied when I’m done with you tonight. You’re gonna be ruined for anyone else after this.”

There was no hesitation now. He parted your pussy with two fingers, finding you already slick with arousal, your lips swollen, and he dragged his digits up through your folds in one long stroke, making your knees nearly buckle.

“Jesus,” he whispered against your ear, already sounding wrecked. “So fucking wet for me.”

Robby circled your clit, it was light at first, his touch feather-soft, just enough to make your hips jerk. Then it turned firmer, pressing down in tight circles the way he always knew you liked. The exact pressure, the exact rhythm. Muscle memory for him too, apparently.

You tipped your head back against Robby’s broad shoulder, fluttering your eyes shut so you could focus entirely on the intense pleasure flooding through your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his fingers worked you open with precision.

He kept his other hand on your breast, tugging your bra down roughly so he could give your nipples the attention they craved. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging in perfect time with the slick strokes between your legs. The dual sensation was devastating in the best way, making your pussy clench and flutter around nothing.

He slid one thick finger inside you, stretching you carefully, opening you up with a patience that drove you insane. When you pushed your hips back greedily, silently begging for more, he added a second finger, sinking them deeper. You were so tight, clenching hard around the intrusion, and Robby let out a guttural groan against your ear, like the feel of you was almost painful for him too.

“Still so fucking perfect,” he rasped with want. “Fuck… the way you grip me. Like you never want to let go.”

He curled his fingers deliberately, hooking them forward until he found that spongy spot inside you that made your vision flash white for a second. A broken moan tore from your throat as he started stroking your g-spot with every thrust. The sound was loud enough that you both froze for half a heartbeat, listening for any noise from upstairs. The house stayed quiet. Hannah was still fast asleep. Robby didn’t waste another second, he resumed his movements, going deeper now, fucking you steadily with his fingers while his thumb kept the pressure on your clit. 

Robby alternated the pace just to torment you, slow and deep, then faster and harder, then dragging it back to that torturous slow rhythm again. Teasing you right up to the edge without ever letting you fall over it.

You rocked back against his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing him. Every curl of his fingers and every swipe of his thumb made your clit throb and your walls flutter around him. You were soaking his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping pussy filling the quiet room.

Your breathing turned ragged. Small and desperate sounds slipping out despite your best efforts, whimpers, half-moans, his name once or twice when he hit the spot just right.

He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly and then soothing with his tongue. Robby couldn’t stop his hips from rocking against your ass in shallow thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers, allowing you to feel how hard he was, painfully so.

Your thighs started to tremble. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. You were close, so close, and he knew it, still remembered how your body shook, how your pussy pulsed and clenched when you were about to let go.

“Come on,” he murmured against your ear. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.” He pressed his thumb harder on your clit, and crooked his fingers again, stroking that spot in quick pulses. “Let me feel you cum. Please, baby, I want it so bad.”

It hit you like a wave. As you orgasmed around his fingers, your back arched, throwing your head back against his shoulder, opening your mouth on a silent cry that turned into a choked moan when the pleasure finally broke. You came hard, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you upright when wave after wave of pleasure hit you, until your legs felt like liquid.

Robby’s arms stayed locked around you for a long moment after you came down. Slowly, he turned you in his arms until you were facing him. Your legs felt unsteady, so he steadied you with his hands on your waist.

When he lifted the hand that was inside you, the one still slick and shining with you, he brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with you.

Robby licked his fingers slowly, first one, then the other, dragging his tongue flat and thorough, tasting every bit of you. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, humming as if the taste of your slickness pleasured him. “Still taste the same. Sweet. So goddamn good.”

Heat flooded your face, your chest, everywhere. You couldn’tlook away, the sight of him, with his lips wet and his eyes locked on yours, while he savored you like that, made your core clench again. It felt so aching and empty without him inside you, and you desperately needed to be filled again, to feel the stretch of his cock impaled inside you, to have his weight over you while he made you feel owned. 

The words slipped out before you could think them through. “Fuck me, Robby.”

His mouth curved almost predatory. The words he’d longed to hear for so long. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your lips. “Ask nicely.”

You narrowed your eyes with defiance even through the haze of want. “Go to hell.”

He laughed, the same laugh he used to give you in stolen moments years ago, when you’d push back just to watch him unravel. “Still stubborn,” he said, almost fond. “Good to know some things don’t change.”

Robby didn’t hesitate. In one smooth motion, his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nd your arms around his neck, as he carried you up the stairs. His mouth found your neck again on the way, kissing and nipping while he navigated the familiar hallway in the dark. 

He pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him, and turning the lock with a click. Robby set you down on the edge of the bed but didn’t step back. He stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with an expression that made your stomach flip.

“Fuck… I feel like I’m dreaming,” he cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheeks. “You, here, letting me touch you again after all this time. After everything.”

Then he was on you, Robby climbed onto the bed, his knees bracketing your hips, and pressing you back into the mattress with his weight. He crashed his mouth down on yours in a desperate kiss while he ran his hands over your body.

He groaned like a man starved, staring at your chest. “These tits… God, I missed them.” His mouth descended immediately, devouring you with almost frantic need. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly around the peak before he sucked it hard, hollowing your cheeks. He kneaded the other breast, digging his fingers in, flicking and pinching the neglected nipple until you arched off the bed with a loud moan. He switched sides, licking and biting, sucking marks into the flesh like he wanted to claim every inch. His stubble was scraping deliciously against your skin, making you whimper and thread your fingers through his brown hair, holding him to you.

He was almost desperate in the way he worshiped your body, groaning against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh so you could feel how painfully hard he was. “So fucking perfect,” he mumbled between sucks and bites. “These tits were made for my mouth. Look at how pretty they look. I love sucking on them… fuck, baby.”

You were panting, pushing your chest further into his face as pleasure shot straight to your cunt. Robby spent long minutes there, alternating between teasing licks and rough hungry suction, until your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his spit.

Then he started moving lower. His mouth trailed wet kisses down your sternum, over your stomach, pausing to nip at the soft curve just below your navel. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing your shorts the rest of the way down to bunch around your ankles. For a moment, he just stared at the damp spot on your panties with eyes full of lust.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his hot breath right against your dripping pussy. “You’re making such a big mess for me. You ruined your panties… so fucking soaked.”

He leaned in and mouthed at your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing kisses along your slit, dragging his tongue slowly from your entrance up to your clit through the soaked cotton. He sucked gently on your clit through the material, making your hips jerk. Then he pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the damp spot before diving in again, licking broad stripes, nipping at your folds, mouthing at you like he was trying to taste every drop of your arousal through the barrier.

You moaned louder, with your thighs trembling around his head and your hands fisting the sheets as he teased you mercilessly. Robby hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you open while he continued the torturous worship of his mouth. Every time you tried to grind harder against his mouth, he pulls back slightly, keeping you right on the edge, whimpering and desperate.

“Robby… please…” you gasped, but he only groaned against your pussy and keept teasing, determined to drive you insane before he finally gave you what you both needed.

He looked up at you from between your thighs, gleaming with satisfaction. Robby hooked two fingers into the thin cotton at your hip and ripped. The sound of fabric tearing filled the quiet room. You only had a second for the cool air to hit your bare, dripping pussy, because right away Robby’s mouth was on you, aggressive and devastatingly skilled.

He devoured you like a man who’d been starving for years. There’s no gentle buildup or teasing licks. He buried his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on feral. He drags his tongue broadly, giving you flat strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive. 

He groaned deeply into your pussy, the sound was filthy. “Fuck, baby… you taste even better than I remembered,” he said against your folds before diving back in.

He ate you out with aggression, swallowing your clit into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves before releasing it with a filthy pop. The sudden loss of suction made you whimper, only for him to immediately flick the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit as his stubble scraped against your inner thighs with every movement of his head.

Robby alternated between deep licks that plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in slow strokes that had you dripping down his chin, and tight suction on your clit that made you curl your toes hard.

Every time you tried to muffle your moans, he only doubled down, sucking harder, licking deeper, devouring you like he’d been dreaming about this exact taste for years. He gripped your ass, spreading you wider for his mouth, holding you firmly in place so you couldn’t escape the assault of his tongue.

“Oh my God… Robby—” Your voice cracked as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. “Fuck, right there, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

He ate it like he loved it. Like he needed it. His hands weren’t idle either. One arm banded across your lower stomach, holding you down when your hips started bucking too wildly. The other hand reached up to palm and squeeze your bare breasts, making you moan louder.

You pushed up onto your elbows, desperate to watch him. The sight was both obscene and intoxicating, Robby’s head buried between your thighs, his shoulders flexing as he worked, eyes closed in pure bliss while his mouth devoured your cunt. His jaw was moving with every lick and every suck, his lips and chin already shiny with your wetness. When he glanced up and caught you watching, his eyes darkened even more.

He pulled back just enough to spit directly onto your swollen pussy, a thick glob of saliva landing right on your clit. The warm sensation made you gasp, asd he watched it drip down your folds for half a second before he drove back in, spreading the spit with his tongue, mixing it with your own slick until everything was messy and glistening.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” the words came out muffled against you. “So fucking wet for me. Been waiting four years to taste you again.”

He continued his relentless assault on your clit, and you couldn’t look away. The sight of this strong man, completely lost between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal, was almost too much.

“You’re so fucking good at this… shit, your mouth—” A broken moan escaped you when he sucked hard on your clit again. “I’m gonna… I can’t!  Robby, I’m close already…”

Your second orgasm built fast, and it crushed over you without mercy, making you bow your back off the bed, tearing a broken cry from your throat as the pleasure peaked. Robby didn’t let up for a second, he sucked your nub harder, drawing the orgasm out until it felt endless.

Your vision whited out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the pleasure rolled through you while he kept licking you through it greedily.

You sobbed his name, “Robby… fuck—oh god,” as your body shook uncontrollably, clamping his thighs around his head when the intensity bordered on too much. 

He finally eased off only when your cries turned into overwhelmed whimpers, your body limp and trembling on the bed. But even then, he didn’t pull away completely. Robby continued placing soft kisses to your folds, licking up every drop of your release like he couldn’t bear to waste any of it. His hands soothed your thighs, rubbing circles while you came down.

Robby lifted his head, letting you admire his lips and chin glistening with your cum between your spread thighs. “Four years… and you still taste like heaven.”

When he finally started kissing his way up your body, his mouth was soft, reaching your mouth and kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back, hovering his face above yours. “You okay, baby?” he asked with an edge of worry in his tone, cupping your cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear. “Talk to me. Was that too much?”

You managed a shaky nod, still catching your breath. “I’m… fine. Just… holy shit, Robby.”

He chuckled softly, pleased with himself after seeing the effect his mouth had on you. “You’ve got the most perfect pussy in the world, you know that? So fucking pretty when you cum. And look at the mess you made…” He glanced down between your bodies at the soaked sheets, a proud and filthy smirk tugging at his mouth. “You still soak everything when I eat you out. God, I love how wet you get for me.”

Your voice came out breathy, needy, honest in a way you haven’t been with him in years.You were finally embracing what you truly wanted. “I need you, Robby. All of you. Please.”

Something possessive flashed in his eyes. He didn’t make you ask twice this time, just sat back on his heels and stripped in a rush, yanking his shirt over his head, then shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, looking every bit as thick as you remembered it, with the head already flushed in a dark red, leaking precum. 

He was rock-hard, with the veins standing out along the shaft, curving slightly upward the way you loved, because it hit your g-spot so easily. He knelt between your spread thighs, pressing his into the mattress, and looked down at you with hunger. “Stroke it a little,” he asked you. “Let me feel your hand on me first.”

You sat up just enough to reach him, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. He felt hot in your palm as you gave him a firm stroke from the base to the tip, swirling your thumb over the leaking head to spread the precum. Your touch made Robby groan deeply, twitching his hips forward into your touch.

“Fuck… It’s so big,” you whispered, locking your eyes on the way your hand looked around him. “I need it so much, Robby. I’ve missed this cock. Missed how full you make me.”

He watched your hand move, his breathing growing increasingly ragged with every stroke. “Slow, baby. Just like that. Real slow.” His voice was strained, like he was already fighting not to cum from your touch alone. “Shit, I’m close already. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this… your hand feels too fucking good.”

You kept stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just the way he’d always liked. Robby's head fell back for a moment, a moan rumbling in his chest, before he looked down again, watching your tits move with each stroke, watching your slick pussy still glistening from his mouth, waiting for him.

He reached down and gently took your wrist, stilling your hand. Then he shifted forward, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the thick head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you whimper.

Robby leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other still holding his cock against your entrance. He locked his eyes onto yours. “Should we.. uh… grab a condom?”

You didn’t even hesitate, spreading your legs wider for him, sliding your hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. “I’m on the pill,” you whispered. “Go raw. I want to feel all of you.”

A deep groan escaped him as he notches the head of his cock right against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch without pushing inside yet. He cupped your face with his free hand, brushing your lower lip while he held himself right there, waiting for the moment he finally sank into you after four long years.

When he finally pushed forward, you felt the blunt pressure increasing, letting you feel every inch as he sank into you. You both moaned at the same time, he was thicker than you remembered in the haze of memory, and the stretch was intense, bordering on overwhelming after so long without anyone inside you. Your walls parted around him, fluttering and clenching as he slid deeper, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush against yours and he was buried to the hilt inside you.

The fullness was perfect, almost too much, pressing against that deep spot that made you curl your toes instantly. “Fuck… baby,” Robby groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for a second. “You feel… Jesus Christ. So tight. So fucking wet and warm. I missed this pussy so much.”

He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, both of you just breathing each other in after four long years. Then he started to move. The first thrust was slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet sound. The second was a little harder. By the third, he’d found a steady rhythm, long and powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The drag and stretch were incredible, every time he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissed that deep place that made sparks explode behind your eyes.

“Oh my God… Robby,” you moaned, already trembling, and he’d just started. “You’re so fucking deep.”

It felt amazing for both of you. For you, it was like waking up after years of numbness, every nerve lighting up, pleasure flooding your body in waves with every thrust. For Robby, the groan that left him is guttural, almost pained with how good it felt to finally be inside the only place that’d ever made sense in his life.

His hips snapped forward harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom as he fucked you with measured strokes. You were trying so hard to stay quiet, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on the side of it, muffling the moans that kept trying to spill out. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, then fluttered them open again. Robby was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, flicking his gaze between your face, your lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure, to your tits bouncing with every thrust, and down to where your pussy was stretched wide around his cock. 

He watched himself disappear inside you, the shiny wetness coating his shaft every time he pulled back, your folds clinging to him greedily. “Fuck, look at that. Your pretty pussy taking me so well after all this time. Stretched so tight around my cock… making such a mess on me.”

You bit harder into your hand as a particularly deep thrust made you whimper loudly. Robby’s rhythm started to pick up, snapping his hips with more force, the perfect angle to hit your spot inside you over and over, making you clench around his length.

“Shit… right there,” you whimpered. “That spot… fuck! I can feel every inch. God, I’m so full.”

“Stop squeezing like that,” he groaned, almost pleading, tightening his grip on your hips. “You’re gonna make me cum already if you keep clenching around me like that. This pussy is too perfect… so fucking good. Feels like heaven. I’ve dreamed about this for years… being buried inside you again.”

He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your muffled moans, before he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and the next thrust punched the air out of your lungs as he bottomed out completely, pressed his hips tightly against your ass, grinding his cock against that deepest spot.

“Oh my god—Robby!” You gasped against your hand, rolling your eyes back. “Like that! Like that… Please don’t stop.”

He fucked you harder now, making the bed creak softly beneath you. “So perfect,” he panted between thrusts. “You feel so fucking perfect. This body… these tits… this tight little pussy squeezing me. I missed you so much. Missed fucking you like this.”

He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his thumb and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was pushing you toward the edge fast.

“Cum for me, baby,” he growled. “I want to feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel it.”

When the pleasure started cresting, your words turned into fragmented, needy whimpers. 

“Yes… yes… right there, oh fuck, I’m cumming. Michael, I’m cumming—”

The combination of his deep strokes, the pressure on your clit, and the overwhelming fullness after four years was too much. Your third orgasm of the night crashed over you even harder than the other two. Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat despite your teeth sinking into your hand. Your pussy clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering rhythmically as waves of intense pleasure ripped through you.

Robby groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impeding orgasm approaching. “That’s it—fuck, yes—milk me, baby. I’m cumming—”

He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, and finally allowed himself to cum. You felt the thick pulses of his seed as he filled you up, rope after rope of cum flooding deep inside you, so much that you could feel it spilling out around his cock where you were stretched around him. Robby kept grinding his hips against you through his orgasm, drawing it out, making sure every drop stayed inside you as long as possible.

He stayed buried deep while you both came down, breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your pussy still gently fluttering around his softening cock. 

“Four years,” he whispered hoarsely against your lips. “And you’re still mine.”

An incredulous chuckle rumbled out of his chest, utterly satisfied. His brown eyes were in disbelief, like he genuinely couldn’t believe he just got to be inside you again after all this time. The lines around his eyes crinkled deeply as he smiled. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, sounding a little husky fro  the exertion. “I can’t believe I just got to be inside you again. That was… fuck. That was the best fuck of my life. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.”

He stayed there a moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally pulled out of you. You both groaned at the loss, a thick of his cum leaking out of you onto the already-soaked sheets. Robby rolled off you and onto his back beside you, reaching out with one arm to pull you against his side

He turned his head to look at you, brushing damp strands of hair off your forehead with gentle fingers. “How was that for you, baby?” he asked softly. “Tell me. Was it okay? Did I hurt you at all?”

You huffed a small, tired laugh against his collarbone. “You already know the answer.”

He hummed, but didn’t let it drop. “Say it anyway.”

“Robby.” You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You already know exactly how good it felt. It was amazing. More than amazing. I don’t even have words for it. I came so hard I— God, I needed that.”

He smiled again with a satisfied grin, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s all I wanted, to make you feel as good as you made me feel.”

As the afterglow started to fade, and reality started to creep back in… the sleeping five-year-old down the hall, the careful co-parenting boundaries you’ve both worked so hard to maintain. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.

“You should get going now. It’s late. Hannah will be up early, and I don’t want her to wake up and find you here. It might make things weird or confusing for her.”

Robby let out a genuine laugh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You use me to break your four-year celibacy, three orgasms, mind you, and now you’re kicking me out?” His eyes sparkled with humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Cold, woman . Real cold. I give you the best, and only, dick you’ve had in years, and this is the thanks I get? Straight to the door?”

You couldn’t help but laugh with him, swatting lightly at his chest. “I’m serious. You know how she is. If she comes in here looking for me in the morning and sees you in my bed, she’ll have a million questions. Or she’ll think we’re back together and get her hopes up. We can’t do that to her.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, too, mirroring your position, still grinning that cocky grin that made him look ten years younger. “Three orgasms,” he repeate, holding up three fingers like he was making a point. “I ate that pussy until you were crying and shaking, then fucked you so deep you saw stars, and now I’m being evicted? Harsh, really harsh. I feel so used right now.”

“Robby,” you said, trying to sound stern but failing as another laugh bubbled up. “Come on. You know I’m right.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. “I don’t want to go. Not yet. I want to stay here and cuddle you. Just hold you for a while. I promise I’ll leave early tomorrow morning, before Hannah wakes up. I’ll set an alarm, sneak out. She’ll never know I was here. Please, baby. Let me stay. I missed this. Missed holding you after.”

You hesitated, chewing your lip. The warmth of his body against yours, the beat of his heart under your palm, the way he kept tracing circles with his  fingers on your lower back… it all feels dangerously good. 

He sensed your wavering and leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses. “So fucking perfect. The way you took me tonight, the way you came for me… You made me feel whole again. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this. You and Hannah… you two are the best things that ever happened to me. Being inside you again, hearing you moan my name… it reminded me how much I still need you. How much I’ve always needed you.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you fully against his chest so you were tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Robby slid one of his legs between yours, tangling you together under the messy sheets. He kept kissing you, your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, then back to your mouth in lingering presses. 

“I mean it,” he whispered against your hair. “You made me the happiest man alive when you gave me Hannah, but nights like this… being with you like this… it completes something in me. I feel alive. Whole. Like the missing piece finally clicked back into place. No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one else ever could.”

You melted into him despite yourself, and the night passed in fragments of deep sleep, the kind you haven’t had in years. Robby’s arm stayed across your waist the whole time, with his fingers splayed over your stomach like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell against your back in an even rhythm, and the snoring… God, the stupid snoring you’d missed so much.

You woke slowly, first to the weight of him, then to the ache between your legs, the reminder of last night still dried on your inner thighs. You felt him stir behind you as consciousness returned. You could practically hear the smile before you even turned your head.

When you did roll over, he was already looking at you with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, and crinkled at the corners. And yeah, there it was, that stupid and contented grin spreading across his face like he’d just won the lottery.

“Stop smiling,” you muttered. “You’re creeping me out.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, didn’t even try to dial it back. If anything, it got wider. “Can’t help it,” he said. “Woke up next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Kinda hard not to smile about that.”

Heat climbed up your neck despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. “Flattery at six a.m. is a cheap move, Robinavitch.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, roaming his eyes over your face like he was seeing it for the first time. “Look at you.”

He dropped his gaze appreciatively, taking in the messy hair spilling across the pillow, the sheet tangled around your bare hips, the faint marks his mouth left on your collarbone last night. He reached out, tracing one with his thumb, gently.

“Don’t even think about it, Michael,” you warned him. You’d had your fun last night. It had been amazing, even better than you remembered sex with Robby ever being. But it had been one time. One stupid lapse of judgment, one moment of weakness that couldn’t repeat itself again. You couldn’t let it. Not when the delicate balance you’d fought so hard to maintain for Hannah was so stable. You refused to risk your daughter’s sense of security just because your body still craved the man who used to know every inch of you better than anyone else.

Robby snapped his eyes back to yours, looking equal parts hungry and amused. “You know how I get when you call me Michael.”

“Last night was a relapse. I was tired, and… Emotional. Not happening again today. Not happening again ever, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah?” He laughed before he shifted, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. His body came down over yours, caging you under his weight. Robby braced his forearms on either side of your head, his knees bracketing your hips. “You sure about that?”

You pushed at his shoulder. “Robby… get off.”

He stirred above you, lifting his head. For a moment, he didn’t move, but you kept pushing, gentle but insistent, until he finally rolled off you with a sigh and propped himself up on one elbow.

“All of this… It was a mistake,” you sat up and pulling the sheet up over your bare chest, suddenly too aware of your nakedness.

Robby reached for you instinctively, but you shifted away, scooting back against the headboard. “Why?” he asked. “It felt fucking amazing for both of us. You know it did. We’re good at this, we’ve always been good at this.”

You shook your head, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies still fit together like they remembered every single time before… it made your resolve weaken. “You know why not. I can’t just think about ourselves anymore. We have to think about Hannah. We can’t hurt her. We already crashed once, and I’m not putting her through big changes, through the uncertainty, the chance that everything falls apart all over again.” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “I know you, Michael. In a month you’re going to regret this. You’re going to need space, and your head won’t be in the right place for commitment. I won’t do that to her. I won’t do that to any of us.”

Robby sat up fully now, the playful morning haze completely gone from his face. “It’s different this time. The first time… everything was happening all at once. You know how fucked up I was… After Covid, after… everything that happened. Having to take care of the whole ED… I was drowning. I couldn’t be what you needed. But I’m not that man anymore. You know I’ve changed. You’ve seen how much being a father changed me.” He leaned forward slightly. “I want you. I want this. I want the family. I want the commitment.”

You swallowed hard, and for one dangerous moment, you let yourself imagine it, waking up like this every morning with his warmth beside you, the three of you as a real family, lazy weekends and shared dinners and Hannah running between you both. The picture was so beautiful it hurt, but reality settled back in fast.

“You should go,” you whispered, looking away toward the window so he wouldn’t see the tears gathering in your eyes. “We shouldn’t keep talking about this anymore.”

Robby exhaled, running a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. “It’s not fair.”

You let out a bitter little laugh. “A lot in life isn’t fair, Robby. You know that better than anyone else.”

He watched you for a long moment. The silence stretched between you until he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. You stayed under the sheet, trying not to watch the familiar way his muscles moved as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.

When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, turning back to you with that half-smirk that you knew meant trouble. “You can try, but I know you can’t stay away from all of this for too long. I’m a real catch.”

You couldn’t help the tired laugh that escaped you. “Goodbye, Michael.”

He gave you one last long look full of affection before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The sheets still smelled like him, your skin still remembered his hands, nd you were left alone with the echo of everything you wanted but couldn’t let yourself have. 

A/N: Oh my god, I finally wrote something!!!😭 I’d had this idea sitting in my brain for so long, and the other day I finally felt the urge to start it. After about a week, and using all the free time I have between work and college, I actually managed to finish it. Finally something with a bit of plot, lol.

I really hope you enjoyed this idea! I’d love to write a second part, but with my schedule… that could be anywhere from two weeks to a year from now. It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so it’d be really nice to hear your thoughts, if you liked it, your favorite parts, anything really🫶🏻

You were lying there in the dim glow of Robby’s bedroom, your chest still rising and falling in waves with the aftershocks of the orgasm he’d dragged out of you with his mouth. It hadn’t taken long to get here, a few twelve-hour shifts together, a couple of shared looks across the ER, and now here you were: naked, spent, and staring up at the man who’d just eaten you out like it was his sole mission in life.

Robby stayed there, kneeling between your legs, still fully dressed in gray cargo pants and a white t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders. His salt-and-pepper hair was mussed after your fingers had been in it not ten minutes ago, and those big brown eyes of his were fixed on you now with a heat that made your thighs press together instinctively. His mouth was still shiny with the remnants of your arousal, his lips slightly swollen from the work he’d put in between your legs.

You swallowed, your voice was a little husky from the moans he’d pulled out of you earlier. “It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” The words came out teasing as you gestured lazily at yourself, then at him. “I’m laid out here all naked, and you’re still fully dressed.”

A low chuckle rumbled out of him, and Robby dragged his eyes over your body slowly. He took in the sweat still decorating your chest, the way your nipples tightened under his gaze, and the slick shine between your thighs that he’d left behind. “I figured you’d want a minute to catch your breath before we even the score.”

You didn’t want a minute, you wanted him, right fucking now. The power imbalance had always been there, with him being the chief attending and you his newest resident, that was part of the reason you’d find yourself so attracted to him from the beginning. But now, the power had flipped in the best way the second you left the hospital, and you felt like you had all the control right now.

You pushed up onto your elbows, dropping your gaze pointedly to the obvious bulge straining the front of his pants. “I’ll catch my breath later. Right now I want to see what I’ve been feeling pressed against my thigh for the last fifty minutes.”

He didn’t argue, just moved his hands to the waistband of his pants, hooking his thumb under the fabric as he popped the button with a flick. The zipper rasped down, and you sat up fully then, reaching for him without thinking. You brushed his fingers as you tugged at the belt he hadn’t even bothered to undo properly in his haste earlier. You worked it free, sliding the buckle open with a clink.

“Someone’s eager,” he commented, but he let you take over, dropping on his back next to you, lifting his hips off the mattress to help you shove the pants down his legs. They caught briefly on the thick thighs you’d felt flexing earlier when he’d held your legs open, then pooled at his ankles before he kicked them aside, leaving him in just the black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he was. The outline was obscene, thick and straining against the fabric.

You didn’t hesitate, sliding up your hands over his thighs, feeling the coarse hair there, and hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers to drag them down slowly, letting the fabric catch on the head of his cock before it sprang free. And fuck… It was huge. You’d felt it through layers, grinding against you, pressing between your thighs when he’d pinned you to the mattress. But seeing it like this, bare and erect and curving slightly upward toward his stomach, was something else entirely. The thick veins ran along the shaft, and the head was flushed dark and already glistening at the tip, easily the biggest you’d taken or even seen up close.

Robby lay there unapologetic, but the way his breath hitched when your eyes widened told you he knew exactly what he was packing. “Jesus, Robby,” you breathed, half-laughing as you wrapped your hand around the base before you could stop yourself. Your fingers didn’t quite meet, the girth was filling your palm perfectly. You gave it one slow stroke from root to tip, feeling the way it jumped in your grip, the bead of pre-cum that slicked your thumb as you swirled it over the head.

He let out an exhale, lifting one hand to cup the back of your neck. “Careful,” he warned you. “You keep going like that, and we’ll be over before we even start.”

You stroked him again, firmer this time, twisting your wrist just a little at the head the way you hoped he’d like. The weight of him, the heat, the soft grunts that escaped his mouth… it all made your mouth water and your pussy ache all over again. Robby twitched his hips forward once, fully involuntarily, before he caught himself.

The small distance between your bodies closed as you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was slow at first, allowing you to taste the faint remnants of yourself on his mouth from earlier. Robby responded immediately, keeping his hand at the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair as he angled your head just right, deepening the kiss and brushing his tongue against yours.

You never stopped moving your hand, sliding it over the rigid member, feeling the vein along the underside throbbing with each pass of your thumb over the head. Robby was leaking steadily now, making each stroke smoother and wetter. You tightened your fingers just enough at the base, then loosened on the way up, learning what made him moan the loudest. The kiss grew messier as Robby nipped at your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue, sliding his free hand down your bare back to pull you closer until your breasts pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt, molding your naked body over his still clothed one.

You broke the kiss just long enough to gasp for air. “God, you feel so fucking good,” you murmured, giving his cock another firm stroke that made his breath hitch. Then you let go for a second, gripping the hem of his shirt instead. You tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it upward. “Let me get this off you.”

Robby’s hand caught your wrist gently but firmly before you could yank the shirt higher. He pulled your palm back down toward his erection, guiding it back around his shaft with intent. His voice came out guarded. “It can stay on.”

You paused, keeping your fingers still, loosely wrapped around him, but not moving them. You searched his face, those sweet eyes, usually so commanding at work, now held a flicker of hesitation you’d never seen before. You tried again anyway, your other hand joining the first at the bottom of his shirt, tugging it playfully. “Come on, Robby. What are you doing? Let me take it off.”

He exhaled through his nose. “What are you doing?”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Trying to get your shirt off. Seems only fair after you had your head between my thighs for like an hour.”

He shook his head once, trying to offer you one of his smirks, but it fell a little flat. “Why?”

The question threw you off, and you blinked as you sat back slightly on your heels on the bed, your naked body fully on display while he lay there in just the shirt and nothing below the waist, with his huge cock still jutting out proudly, glistening from your strokes, bobbing slightly with his heartbeat.

“What do you mean, why?” you asked, genuinely confused. “You can’t blame a girl for wanting a little skin-to-skin contact. I’m completely naked here, and you’re still half-dressed.”

Robby glanced down at your hand hovering near his cock, then back up to your face. For a second, the confidence that had defined every second since you’d walked through his door, the way he’d pinned you down, the filthy praise he’d growled while licking you through your orgasm, just seemed to drain right out of him. He looked… human.

“It’s just…” He rubbed a hand over his face, the same gesture you’d seen him do at work more times than you could count. “I don’t have much time to hit the gym anymore. Between the shifts and everything…”

You’d never guessed Robby could be self-conscious about what was under his shirt. This was the same man who never doubted himself when there were lives on the line in his ED, who’d answered your shameless flirting with such confidence, like crossing the line with a coworker was nothing new to him. The same man who had just let you see everything he kept hidden between his thighs without a flicker of hesitation.

Yet now, as your fingers hovered at the hem of his shirt, he looked almost… shy. Self-aware, and mbarrassed of showing you his fully naked body. And you wondered, quietly, if he always kept his shirt on when he fucked

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “Do you think I care? Robby, I’m not here because I think you look like some bodybuilder under your shirt.”

He let out a breath that was half-laugh and half-sigh, running his hand through his hair. “It’s just… the years don’t come alone. I’ve forgotten to look after myself and… Fuck, look at you.” He dragged his eyes over your body again, the curve of your breasts, the way your thighs still glistened faintly from his mouth, and your release. “You’re… to die for. Fcking perfect. And I’m laying here like this.”

You weren’t blind, you’d noticed the slight softness around his middle that the oversized scrubs usually hid, the way his shoulders were still broad and strong but no longer sharply cut like they probably once were. None of it bothered you, quite the opposite, it turned you on. Ripped, gym-perfect guys had never done much for you. What drove you absolutely insane was the natural, masculine reality of Robby’s body, the solid weight of him.

You shook your head. “Shut up,” you told him affectionately. “Just shut up and let me see. I promise I’m gonna love it.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, those intense eyes searching your face and looking for any sign you were bullshitting him. You held his gaze, resting your hand lightly on his thigh, stroking the coarse hair there in slow circles. Finally, Robby exhaled slowly, and he moved his hands to the hem of the shirt. He gripped the fabric, hesitating only a heartbeat longer, then pulled it upward in one motion, dragging it over his head and off his arms.

His chest was broad and strong, but it had a soft layer of fat to it now, the kind that came from too many fast and crappy meals and not enough time for anything resembling a consistent workout. His belly was round and soft, curving gently outward. There was a light dusting of dark hair across his chest that trailed down in a thicker line toward his navel and beyond, disappearing into the thatch at the base of his still-hard cock.

Robby’s face tightened the moment the shirt hit the floor. He opened his mouth, already starting to apologize again. “Look, I know it’s not—”

You didn’t let him finish, just surged forward on your knees, cupping his face in both hands and crashing your mouth against his in a hard kiss. It wasn’t gentle this time, it was hungry, almost fierce. Robby made a surprised sound in his throat, but he kissed you back just as fiercely. You began to move your hands everywhere at once, exploring his body greedily. One slid down from his jaw to his neck, then lower to his shoulders, squeezing the solid breadth of them. The other roamed across his chest, pressing into the soft give of his pectorals, spreading your fingers to feel the warmth, the slight weight, the way his skin heated under your touch.

You squeezed, kneading the softness there, brushing your thumbs over his nipples, which tightened instantly. Then your hands drifted lower, over the round curve of his belly, grabbing handfuls of the soft flesh, digging your fingers in with appreciation. It felt good, warm, and real, but you could feel the faint tremor of self-consciousness still lingering.

You broke the kiss just enough to speak against his mouth. “Your body is so fucking sexy, Robby,” you punctuated the words with another hard kiss, then another. “I’m so turned on right now. You have no idea. This—” You squeezed his belly again, then slid up to cup his chest, circling his nipples. “—all of this. God, you’re driving me crazy.”

He tried to pull back slightly, still caught in that loop of doubt, muttering something about “not exactly a prize,” but you silenced him with your mouth again, kissing him even harder, leaving no room for arguments.

Moving down slowly, you pressed your lips to the center of his chest first, right between his soft pecs. Then you let your tongue out, dragging a stripe across one of his nipples, making the nub tighten under the flat of your tongue. You circled it lazily before closing your lips around it and giving a gentle suck.

“Fuck…” he muttered and you smiled against his skin as you moved to the other nipple, licking strokes over it before flicking the tip with your tongue. You alternated between them, licking, sucking and grazing with your teeth just enough to make his chest twitch beneath your mouth. His nipples were sensitive, pebbled and flushed by the time you pulled back, leaving them shiny with your saliva.

Then you started moving even lower, you kissed your way down the warm, rounded swell of his belly, taking your time. Open-mouthed kisses, and licking from below his sternum all the way down to his navel. Robby’s stomach tensed as if he was trying to suck in his stomach, but he eventually relaxed as you nuzzled into it, rubbing your cheek against the curve like you couldn’t get enough.

“You have no idea how much I love this,” you said against him, kissing the softest part of his lower belly, nuzzling and pressing your face into him, inhaling his scent while you squeezed the sides of it with your hands possessively.

Robby let out a shaky exhale above you, his cock throbbed visibly against his stomach, inches from where you were resting your cheek, but you stayed focused on worshipping the belly he’d been so self-conscious about only minutes earlier.

Finally, you pulled back, moving up his body one again, resting your forehead against his. You kept your hands on his body, one still kneading his belly possessively, the other tracing patterns through the hair on his chest.

“Wanna see how turned on you got me?” you whispered.

Before he could respond with more than an exhale, you shifted on the bed, swinging one leg over his hips to straddle him. The position put you directly above his lap, but you didn’t lower yourself onto his cock, instead, you settled your weight so that your slick, still-sensitive pussy hovered just above the round curve of his belly.

The heat of your core radiated against his skin, close enough that he could undoubtedly feel the wetness. Your thighs bracketed his sides until your knees were pressing into the mattress on either side of him. You rocked your hips once, very lightly, parting and brushing the slick folds of your pussy teasingly against the soft warmth of his tummy, just enough contact to let him feel how drenched you still were, how your body had responded to him, to all of him.

Robby’s hands came up to your thighs instinctively, gripping them. You looked down at him, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. “See? This is what you do to me. Just looking at you… touching you… It’s got me soaked all over again. Fuck, Robby, I want all of you.”

The sensation was nothing like anything you’d felt before, his stomach was so soft, so warm, so wonderfully plush that it cradled every inch of your cunt like it had been made for this. Your juices, still plentiful from the earlier orgasm and the fresh wave of arousal that seeing him shirtless had triggered, immediately began to coat him. With each forward rock of your hips, you smeared more of your wetness across the swell, painting glistening trails over the trail of hair that led down from his navel.

The friction was perfect, it got your clit dragging deliciously against the flesh, the slight give allowing you to press down harder without discomfort, every movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

You kept moving your hips in rolling waves, forward and back, then in small circles that made your shiny pearl catch just right against the warm curve. You could feel your arousal building rapidly, how your inner walls clenched around nothing as you used his soft belly like the most perfect toy.

“Fuck… Robby,” you gasped, tipping your head back as another wave of pleasure rolled through you. “Your body feels so good… so soft and warm.”

Robby looked completely gone beneath you. His eyes were wide with disbelief and lust. He couldn’t seem to decide where to look, flicking hiz gaze frantically from your face, flushed and lost in pleasure, to your bouncing breasts, to the mesmerizing sight of your beautiful, glistening pussy rubbing all over his soft stomach. His mouth hung slightly open, like a man utterly wrecked by the sight of a beautiful woman using his imperfect, lived-in body to chase her own pleasure so shamelessly.

He watched every roll of your hips like it was the most hypnotic thing he’d ever seen. Your slick folds spreading and dragging over him, the way your clit peeked out with each backward slide, swollen from ll the friction. Robby’s hands twitched at his sides at first, then he finally moved one, wrapping it around the thick base of his cock. He started stroking himself slowly, almost absentmindedly at first, but he tightened his grip as he watched you grind faster.

You noticed the rhythmic movement of his right arm, and you let out a breathless laugh that turned into a moan when your clit caught particularly well against a spot on his belly.

“You’re touching yourself?” you managed to say as you pressed down harder, smearing more of your juices across his skin in a wide arc. “Robby… you really can’t wait, huh? Do I make you that desperate?”

He nodded jerkily, moving his hand faster along his massive shaft now, getting his fingers wet with pre-cum as he pumped them up and down the veined length. “Fuck yes. Look at you… riding my stomach like that… so fucking hot. You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

His words only spurred you on, so you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle so your clit got even more direct pressure with every grind. Your pussy was absolutely drenched now, with yourr juices flowing freely and coating his entire lower belly in a slippery mess.

Robby’s stroking grew erratic as he watched you chase your orgasm on his body, the contrast was dizzying, your youthful form moving so fluidly against his older and softer one. His free hand eventually came up to grip your thigh, fingers digging into the muscle as if to ground himself while you used him.

You kept going, riding him harder. “Oh god… I’m so close,” you whimpered. “It feels so fucking good… I’m gonna cum just like this…”

The orgasm hit you all of a sudden, and its intensity was overwhelming. You arched your back sharply at the same time a loud moan tore from your throat. Your pussy clenched and pulsed against his skin, fresh waves of your release flooded out, soaking his tummy even more thoroughly. Your hips stuttered through the climax, grinding erratically as you rode it out fully, prolonging the sensation by pressing down hard and rolling until the last tremors finally subsided. Only then did you lift yourself off him, shifting to kneel beside his hip on the bed.

You looked down between his legs, expecting to see his cock still hard and ready. Instead, it was soft now, resting against his thigh, still impressive in size even when flaccid. Robby’s hand and shaft were covered in thick ropes of his own creamy cum.

His chest rose and fell rapidly with a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction.“Sorry,” he muttered, “I couldn’t stop… watching you like that… fuck, you were too much.”

You let out a soft chuckle, one that was was warm and loving, without a trace of mockery. “You really came, didn’t you?” you reached out to brush a stray lock of his salt-and-pepper hair back from his forehead. “Just from watching me grind on your belly like that. God, Robby… that’s kind of hot.”

He let out a self-deprecating groan, rubbing his free hand over his face as if he could wipe away the flush coloring his cheeks. “Yeah… fuck. Couldn’t help it. You looked… Jesus, the way you were riding me.. You were all wet, getting off on me like that.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “I wanted to be the one who got you off like that,” you said quietly, the words carrying a playful edge of disappointment that wasn’t really disappointment at all. “Wanted to feel you cumming inside me, or at least have my hands or mouth on you when it happened. Not that you stroking yourself while I came all over your stomach wasn’t insanely sexy… but still.”

Robby’s brown eyes darkened again at your words, and you tilted your head, letting your gaze drop deliberately to his spent cock. You licked your lips slowly, feeling a throb of arousal in your belly at the sight. “Think you can get it up again?”

He let out a short, breathless laugh that turned into a groan. “Fuck… I can try.” Without hesitation, he moved his hand back to his cock, fisting it slowly, squeezing it from root to tip in long strokes. The flesh began to twitch under his touch, thickening slightly as the blood flowed back in.

He watched you the whole time, but you didn’t let him do it alone for long. “Let me help you,” you whispered, moving down his body, settling between his spread thighs on the bed. You leaned in, tracing a broad stripe from the base of his cock upward with your tongue, collecting the salty and bitter taste of his cum in one pass.

You moaned softly at the flavor, and licked again, this time focusing on the underside of the shaft, dragging the flat of your tongue along the prominent vein there, cleaning every streak of pearly white that had dripped down. When you reached the head, you swirled your tongue around it in circles, lapping up the thicker globs that clung to the slit.

His cock jumped, hardening noticeably now, the entire length was shiny with your saliva instead of his release. You took the head into your mouth briefly, sucking with pressure, hollowing your cheeks as you worked to clean him completely.

You pulled off for a moment and looked up at him from between his thighs with a wicked little smile. “Told you I’d help.”

Robby’s chest rose and fell faster, the soft roundness of it moving with each breath. “Fuck me.” He cursed into the room.

You leaned back in, extending your tongue for another slow lick along the full length of his now fully erect cock. “In a second.”

Want to read more of these? Follow me on @cinnxmxngxrlupdates and turn on notifications so you don’t miss any updates.

A/N: I’m sorry this is all I’ve had time to write, my life is extra busy with work and college. I really want to write stories with more than just smut, but I can’t seem to find the time right now. I hope you still enjoy this in the meantime.

You hated the night shift with a bone-deep resentment. It wasn’t just the parade of drunks and crazies who stumbled through the ER doors after midnight. It was knowing that every extra hour you spent here meant another chunk of your already pitiful paycheck vanishing to the sitter. Lila deserved better than a string of late-night strangers watching over her, and you deserved to be the one tucking her in instead of dragging yourself home at dawn, smelling of hospital.

It was close to one in the morning when triage called your name. “Room four. Walk-in laceration. Deep cut to the eyebrow. Came because the bleeding won’t stop.”

You nodded, tugging on fresh gloves as you headed down the hallway. You expected the usual, maybe a drunken stumble, or a bar fight. You stopped on your feet as you pushed the curtain aside.

The man sitting on the exam table looked like he’d stepped out of a gym magazine. His broad shoulders were impressive even under a plain grey hoodie, and you spotted right away how scabbed and bruised his knuckles looked, a typical sign of a bar fight. He kept his head low, his elbows on his knees, while pressing a wad of gauze to his brow with his hand. 

He lifted his head when he heard you approach, looking at you with ocean-deep blue eyes. There was a cut slicing through his left eyebrow, still weeping blood that had already trickled down the side of his face. And yet, despite the obvious injury, he didn’t flinch or scowl.

For a moment, you forgot the room around you. You shook it off, stepping closer.

“Looks like you took a pretty good hit there,” you said, doing your best effort in order to keep your voice even. “Let me take a look.”

He didn’t move at first, almost like he was surprised someone was speaking to him so gently. Then he took the gauze away, revealing the full split in his skin. The cut was deep enough that the edges wouldn’t sit together on their own. It definitely needed stitches.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean t’ bleed all over your floor.”

You gave the faintest, amused exhale. “Trust me, this floor has seen worse.”

Something like humor flickered in his eyes. You stepped between his knees to get a closer look, clicking on your penlight. He smelled faintly of sweat, and his breath hitched almost imperceptibly when you tilted his chin with two gloved fingers to move his face toward the light.

“This is going to need sutures,” you said, meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Figured.”

“Did you get in a fight?”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, and you wondered if he’d pretend it was something else. But then he gave a small shrug. “Somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t pry, people lied,  people hid things, and your job was just to patch them up and send them out, not listen to their life stories. You prepped the tray, laying out the needle driver, the suture kit, and the anesthetic. Tommy’s gaze followed your hands, like he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

“Little pinch,” you warned him, holding the syringe.

He barely blinked when the needle slid in, no hiss or flinch from him. You found yourself glancing at him longer than necessary, studying the way he seemed to be used to pain. As you waited for the anesthetic to take effect, you cleaned the dried blood from his cheek. You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t speak.

“So,” you said lightly, trying to fill the quiet, “you planning to tell me what did this? Or am I supposed to imagine something dramatic?”

An amused breath escaped him. “You probably got a better imagination than the truth.”

“Oh? Try me.”

He was quiet again, but the corner of his mouth twitched just barely, enough that the tiniest curve softened his face. “Gym sparrin’,” he muttered finally. “Caught a bad elbow.”

“That’ll do it,” you said. “Well, next time, try blocking with something other than your face. It’s not the ideal choice.”

This time, the exhale he gave was unmistakably a laugh, but he choked it down fast as if he wasn’t used to letting something like that out. “Thanks for the piece of advice. Hadn’t thought of it.”

You stepped closer, lifting his brow to test numbness. “Feel this?”

“Nah.”

“Good. Try not to move.”

He locked his gaze on yours as you threaded the first stitch. And though you’d done this a thousand times, there was something strangely intimate about holding his skin between your fingers, guiding the needle through with precision.

He watched you work, his eyes never leaving your face, and you felt the heat of his stare, making your cheeks grow increasingly hotter.

“You’re good at that,” he said quietly.

“I should hope so,” you replied with a faint smile. “I’ve stitched up more eyebrows than I can count.”

You kept working, closing the skin while he sat still, keeping his arms on his knees and hands clasped.

“So, I take it you fight. What is it? Boxing?”

.

“MMA,” he replied without elaboration. 

“How long you been doing it?” you asked, keeping your tone casual, trying to ease the tension.

“Long time,” he murmured. “Since I was a kid.”

“You do it professionally?”

He hesitated, and you could tell he wasn’t used to people being interested in him, not like this. “Kind of,” he said. “Just… doin’ what I know.”

You’d placed half the stitches when you noticed how his shoulders had relaxed, how he was letting his guard slip the tiniest bit under the sound of your voice. “Almost done,” you said softly.

He nodded once, and when the last knot was tied and the final suture trimmed, you stepped back. “There,” you said, removing your gloves. “Good as new.”

He reached up to touch the area by habit, then stopped himself at the last second before brushing against the fresh stitches. “Looks alright?”

“You’ll have a scar,” you said, “but honestly, you strike me as someone who can pull off a few of those.”

He huffed again, a stifled laugh that seemed to surprise him as much as you. You handed him the aftercare sheet. “Keep it clean, watch for infection, come back if anything seems off.”

He took the paper from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second. A single second, but it was enough to send a warm, startling jolt through your arm.

He flicked his eyes up to yours, and for one suspended heartbeat, he let the truth flash through him, how beautiful he found you, how utterly unexpected it was to be sitting in an ER room at one in the morning, being touched gently by someone who looked at him like he truly saw him. Then the walls snapped back up.

“Thanks,” he said. “For… all that.”

“It’s my job.”

“Still.” His gaze dipped once to your lips, not long enough to make it obvious, just a flicker, and then away so fast it might have been imagined. “You were… real kind about it.”

You smiled. “Come back if you need anything else.”

He stood, pulling his hood up, towering over you close enough that you had to tilt your head slightly to keep his face in view. Tommy looked at you for a long second, like he wanted to say something more, but he swallowed it. He just put his hands in his pockets and walked toward the door.

Tommy had been hit in the head more times than he could count. He’d been punched, kicked, slammed, choked out, elbowed, kneed, and wrestled by men bigger and meaner, and he’d always managed to keep his mind blank when he needed to. Keeping his mind blank was safer. Blank meant control, meant distance, meant nothing could get inside the places he’d spent years boarding shut. But ever since that night in the hospital, since the warmth of your hands against his skin, Tommy’s mind refused to stay blank.

The next day, he woke before dawn like always. The apartment where he’d been living for two months now, ever since he returned to Pittsburgh, was cold, and the floorboards creaked under his feet. He splashed water on his face, checked the stitches in the mirror, and saw the neat line you’d left on his eyebrow. He stared at it too long, he didn’t even know why. Then your voice echoed faintly in his head, warm enough that it had landed somewhere in him he hadn’t expected. It’d made him feel a way he hadn’t felt in way too long.

Tommy gripped the sink. “Fuck,” he muttered, as if cursing at his own reflection would shake you loose.

But it didn’t. He went to the gym before sunrise, wrapped his hands mechanically, and even then, he could feel you haunting the edges of thought. When he started hitting the bag, your face came back anyway, every time he blinked, he saw that moment your fingers brushed his, just for a second. He saw your eyes, the way you leaned close without flinching, the way you didn’t look at him like he was something dangerous or broken or barely-held-together. You looked at him like a person, like a man, like he was allowed to sit there with his guard half-down and not be punished for it.

Two days passed quickly, and nothing changed. If anything, the thoughts got louder. Tommy wasn’t used to wanting things. Wanting was dangerous, wanting made you weak. And wanting a woman felt like standing on the edge of a long drop he wasn’t sure he could climb back from. This was stupid, he didn’t do this. He didn’t get stuck on people, didn’t let himself feel drawn, pulled, warmed, whatever the hell this was, but he couldn’t get you out of his head.

Tommy tried everything. He trained harder, ran until his lungs burned, lifted until his arms shook, went home exhausted, hoping fatigue would scrape you from his thoughts. Instead, exhaustion made it worse. His defenses were lower, he closed his eyes and felt again the moment you’d leaned in close enough that he’d felt the faintest warmth of your breath on his cheek. 

By the eighth night, his stitches itched a little, it was normal, he knew that. He’d had enough cuts in his life to recognize healing when he felt it. The area wasn’t warm, wasn’t swollen, wasn’t red. It was perfectly fine. But he needed an excuse to see you again.

What was he supposed to do? Walk back into the ER like some guy who didn’t know how to take care of a cut? Tell you he was worried about infection when it was healing cleanly, neatly, exactly like it should?

He shouldn’t go, it was ridiculous, it would look pathetic. What would he even say? Hey, uh, I’ve been thinkin’ about you nonstop for a week like some kinda idiot, so I made up a reason to see you again.

He snorted and shook his head. Absolutely not. You’re not goin’. No way. Not happenin’.

So the next day, there he was, standing at the hospital’s entrance. He almost turned around, but he kept moving,  with slow steps down the hallway. And then he saw you. You were at the counter, typing something into a chart, with your hair slightly out of place from the long shift, the concentration softening your features. A stray strand fell toward your cheek, and you brushed it back, and Tommy felt something far too warm flood through him.

He froze. Every instinct told him to leave, to protect himself, to turn around and go back to how his life was before he’d met you, where nothing hurt, and nothing tempted him.

But you looked up before he could, your eyes found him like you’d been expecting him without expecting him, like time paused for the briefest second when you recognized him. You lifted your eyebrows slightly with surprise.

“Tommy?” you said, stepping around the counter. “What are you doing here?”

He swallowed and cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to the floor before he forced them up again. “Uh… thought maybe, uh… the cut was… infected,” he muttered, hating how rough his voice sounded. “Feels… weird.”

He felt stupid the second the words came out. Like a huge fighter pretending to be concerned about a ten-day-old eyebrow stitch.

But you didn’t laugh, you didn’t even doubt him. As you stepped close and touched his arm lightly, you guided him toward one of the exam rooms. “Let’s take a look.”

Inside, under the light, Tommy sat on the edge of the table again, just like before. You put on gloves, pulling the curtain closed. Tommy watched you with intensity, like he was soaking in every detail he didn’t let himself look at the first time. You stepped between his knees again, and he felt his breath catch.

You lifted his chin with your fingers, and he went very still. The warmth of your skin through the glove seeped straight through him as your thumb brushed near the cut, not touching the stitches, just the skin nearby. 

“You’re healing beautifully,” you said after a moment. “No redness, no warmth, no drainage. No signs of infection at all.”

Tommy’s chest tightened. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.”

“Any fever?”

“No.”

“Then why do you think it’s infected?”

Tommy hesitated. He shrugged. “Just… felt weird.”

You studied him for another moment, then let go of his chin. He missed the touch instantly and hated himself for it.

“It’s probably just the stitches tightening as the skin closes,” you said, stepping back. “Nothing to worry about.”

Tommy nodded. You started taking off your gloves. “I’m glad you came in, though. Better safe than sorry.”

He lifted his head slightly and saw the way you were smiling at him, like you were genuinely glad he was here.

His pulse thumped once, hard enough he felt it in his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Guess so.”

You scribbled a quick note on the chart, then looked at him again with that same gentle calm that had snared him the first night. “How’ve you been feeling otherwise?”

He swallowed. “Fine.”

“You look tired.”

He let out a faint breath, something between a laugh and a grunt. “Been trainin’ a lot.”

“Fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“You should be careful with your face then,” you teased lightly. “I worked hard on that eyebrow.”

Your smile deepened, but Tommy’s didn’t, he had so many things he wanted to say, but none of them seemed to go past his lips. How could he be so brave in the face of death, but be scared shitless when it came to talking to you? 

“If it gives you any trouble, come back.”

He met your eyes and held your gaze longer than he should have. “I will.”

Tommy didn’t even make it to his car. As soon as he pushed through the sliding doors of the hospital, he just walked across the parking lot, pacing back and forth.

He ran a hand over his face. This was stupid, he wasn’t a kid, he wasn’t some teenager trying to gather the courage to ask someone to the school dance. He wasn’t the kind of man who stumbled over simple things. He fought grown men in cages and rings, and gyms. He took punches that would break the average person’s skull. He’d lived through things that should’ve shattered him.

But asking you out? That terrified him. He paced faster, told himself to leave. Go home. Forget the way she looked at you. Forget the warmth in her voice. 

He made it halfway to the edge of the lot before he stopped again. He realized he couldn’t stand the idea of you not knowing. Not knowing that you mattered to him. That you’d gotten into his head, his chest, deeper than you had any right to, and he didn’t want you out.

He turned around. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Alright. Go.”

He took a step and stopped. “What’s the worst that can happen?” he growled to himself. “She says no. That’s it.”

He could take rejection, he could take a hit. He could take anything, except the regret of not trying. He forced himself forward, and the automatic doors opened again. You were behind the nurse’s station again, writing notes. You didn’t notice him right away, you were concentrating, your bottom lip tucked slightly between your teeth in a way that made his stomach tighten.

Then you looked up, and your eyes found him. “Tommy?” you said slowly. “Did you forget something?”

He stopped halfway between the door and your desk. He stood there, looking big, broad, and intimidating to anyone else, and looked at you like you were the only thing in the room.

His voice came out rough. “Uh… yeah. Kinda.”

You waited, lifting your brows gently.

Tommy swallowed, feeling the hammering of his heart. He took a few steps toward you, each one careful, like he was approaching something fragile. When he reached your desk, he stopped again.

He cleared his throat. “I… wanted t’ ask you somethin’.”

Your eyes softened. “Sure. What is it?”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he’d rather take a punch than say the words, but he forced them out. “You wanna… maybe go out… sometime? With me.”

The world didn’t end, and nothing exploded. He’d finally dared to say the words.

You shook your head slightly. Not a no, more like disbelief. “Tommy… I… I don’t think you really want to go out with me.”

He snapped his eyes to yours so fast the movement almost startled you. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “I do.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he beat you to it, leaning his elbows slightly on the counter as if closing the distance made it easier to say things he’d never said before. “I ain’t… good with this kinda thing,” he muttered. “But I been thinkin’ about you. Since that night. A lot.”

His words got your pulse jumping, and Tommy just kept going. “And I ain’t gonna pretend I’m not, or act like I came here for any other reason. I wanted to see you. Wanted t’ ask you properly. Didn’t wanna keep talkin’ myself outta it.”

You felt the warmth climb your chest and into your throat. He looked vulnerable, stripped down, unguarded. “Tommy…” you breathed.

He shook his head slightly. “You can say no. It’s fine. But don’t say it ‘cause you think I don’t mean it.”

You looked at him, and at the way his shoulders were tense, but his eyes were open, at the way he stood there waiting, bracing for a hit that wasn’t coming. And suddenly, saying no wasn’t even an option.

You said the thing that made his heart thump hard enough he actually felt dizzy for a second. “Okay,” you said softly. “Yes. I’ll go out with you.”

Then his chest rose in a deeper breath, the kind you take when something heavy lifts off you. “Yeah?” he murmured.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling.

He looked down for a moment, then gave the smallest huff of breath. “When?” he asked.

“Whenever you want.”

“Tomorrow night,” he said instantly without hesitation. “If you can.”

You nodded. “I can.”

Tommy pushed a hand into his pocket, like he didn’t know what to do with it, then lifted his gaze to you again. “I’ll pick you up. Somewhere nice. Dinner.”

“Alright, Tommy,” you said softly. “Tomorrow night.”

He nodded once, firmly, like he’d just been given a mission, then he stepped back slowly. He didn’t want to leave just yet, but he needed to let you work. As he walked toward the exit, and for the first time all week, everything in him felt sure. He was taking you out, there was no turning back.

You hadn’t dressed up in a long time, at least not feeling the excitement warming your chest, not with that sense of anticipation that kept sneaking up, no matter how hard you pretended to stay calm. The bathroom mirror was fogged at the corners from your shower, and you had your hair pinned halfway up, with strands falling in curves around your shoulders. You were still in your towel, rushing from the sink to your bedroom to your daughter’s room and back again because, of course, your life never seemed to pause when you needed it to.

“Mommy, where’s my bear?” a small voice called from the other side of the hallway.

“On the bed, baby,” you answered, stepping into your room and rifling through your drawer for the necklace you swore you’d left on the nightstand.

The soft patter of feet followed you. “No, it’s not! He’s lost. I lost him, mommy. I lost him forever.”

You suppressed a laugh, leaning toward the mirror to swipe liner under your lashes. “He’s definitely not lost forever.”

Your daughter appeared in the doorway, her curls bouncing around her small face. Five years old and bright as a spark. She was wearing mismatched socks and holding three crayons in one hand, her frustration already forgotten as she saw the makeup scattered across your vanity.

“Are you gonna be a princess?” she asked, climbing onto your bed and bouncing once.

You smiled, grabbing your dress from the closet. “Not a princess. Just… Mommy on a date.”

She blinked. “What’s a date?”

You hesitated a moment. “It’s when you go out with someone you like,” you said finally, simple and honest.

She hummed, contemplating this deeply as only a child could. “Do you like him?”

The question hit more directly than expected, making your fingers pause on the zipper of your dress. “Yes,” you said softly, because you’d never been one to lie to her. “I think I do.”

You slipped into the dress carefully, a simple one, but pretty, black fabric that ended barely above your knee. You looked at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how long it had been since you felt this… alive. 

Tommy would be here in less than twenty minutes, and you still had to put on shoes, finish your hair, grab your purse, check on your daughter’s dinner, and…

“Wait,” you said suddenly, turning. “Honey, did you brush your teeth after your snack?”

She froze, her eyes widening comically. “I forgot!”

“Go,” you said, pointing toward the bathroom and laughing.

She sprinted down the hall, and you moved fast, slipping into your heels, adjusting your dress at the waist, spritzing a little perfume on your wrist. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. It’d been so long since a man made you feel this anticipation… this excitement.

You checked your phone. It was 6:48 PM. and that meant the babysitter should be there any minute. Your daughter shouted something from the bathroom about SpongeBob toothpaste, but you didn’t have time to investigate, so you called back, “Rinse carefully!”

Just as you reached for your earrings, your phone buzzed. Great, that must be her.

You picked it up, but the second you saw the text, the smile you had on your face vanished.

babysitter: Hey! I’m SO sorry, something came up last minute. I can’t make it.

I know it’s late but I really can’t get away.

I owe you!!

You stared at the screen. No no no no no. You read it again, hoping maybe it would magically say something different the second time, but it didn’t.

You felt your stomach dropping, but you didn’t have time to sink, because your daughter came skipping back into your room, proudly opening her mouth. “See? Clean!”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, touching her cheek with a shaky hand. “They look great, sweetheart.”

She didn’t notice the tension in your voice, she was too little for it. She climbed back on your bed, reaching for her crayons, content while your entire night threatened to collapse.

Your date, your first date since… well, since before you had her. And a man who had looked at you like you were worth it, with a man who had paced a parking lot working up the courage. With a man who probabl wouldn’t understand if you suddenly cancelled right before he arrived.

You closed your eyes. “Okay,” you whispered to yourself. “Okay, okay… think.”

Call another sitter? Impossible in ten minutes. Ask a neighbor? Not an option, you didn’t know any of them enough to trust them with your daughter. Bring your daughter? You laughed weakly at the thought. Absolutely not. What would he think if you suddenly showed up at the diner with your five-year-old daughter in tow… the same daughter you’d conveniently forgotten to mention existed?

Maybe this was your fault. You should’ve told him from the beginning, laid it all out before saying yes to the date. But you knew how it went: men in their early thirties didn’t exactly line up for single moms. Most of them bolted at the first whiff of responsibility that wasn’t their own. When Tommy had asked you out, like he hadn’t expected you to say yes, you’d just wanted one night to feel like someone else. Not the exhausted nurse, not the mom scraping by, just… you. nd, in any case, you weren’t planning to hide her forever. Just long enough for him to fall irrevocably, stupidly in love with you, so the news wouldn’t feel like a dealbreaker. So he’d look at Lila and see something worth staying for instead of an “extra package” to run from. Stupid, maybe. Selfish, definitely. But hope had a way of making you lie to yourself, and you’d been lying for weeks.

Your throat tightened, and the disappointment was rushing in, just when you’d been so excited. And now… A soft knock sounded on the door.

Your heart jumped. Tommy was already here. You froze in place, but your daughter hopped off the bed, excited to meet this mysterious man who was supposed to take you out on a date. “I’ll get it!”

“No—!” you called, but it was too late, trying to grab at her arm only to catch air as she streaked down the hall like a comet.

Your heels clicked on the floor as you chased after her, but by the time you reached the door, she’d already swung it open.

And there he was. Tommy, standing on your doorstep in the fading evening light, wearing a clean black jacket over a dark shirt. His hair was neat, and you could smell the faintest scent of cologne drifting with the cool air. He looked painfully good, so handsome and broad.

Your daughter looked up at him with awe. “You’re big.”

Tommy blinked once, then, one corner of his mouth tugged upward, not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one. He didn’t react outright to the little girl standing in the doorway. No flinch, no widening eyes, no flash of irritation or surprise that you’d braced for.

You searched his face, trying to read the unreadable. Was he that good at hiding it or did he genuinely not mind? 

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Guess I am.”

You stepped behind her, catching your breath as his eyes lifted to yours. He stopped breathing for a moment, then he said, very quietly, “You look… beautiful.”

The words made you feel warm all over your body, but the panic returned in an instant. “Tommy,” you said, stepping into the doorway. “I—there’s a problem.”

His shoulders tensed slightly. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“My babysitter cancelled,” you said. “Ten minutes ago. I’m so sorry. I can’t leave her alone, and I can’t find anyone else, and—I’m really sorry, I know you came all the way here, I just… I can’t go out tonight.”

Your daughter leaned into your leg, looking between the two of you with curious eyes, sensing something was wrong but not quite understanding what.

Tommy flexed his jaw once. He didn’t seem angry, just thinking. He looked at you, then at your daughter, then back at you.

For a moment, you expected him to nod, say “it’s fine,” and leave politely, disappear into the night, and never contact you again.

But he didn’t, he stepped closer, lowering his voice to speak to you. “…then we don’t go out.”

Your breath caught, but Tommy held your gaze. “We can stay right here,” he continued softly. “We can order food. Talk. Watch somethin’ with her. Whatever you want.”

He wasn’t disappointed, he wasn’t irritated or backing away. He was offering himself into your real life, into the messy, chaotic truth of you. A truth that included a five-year-old girl. 

You felt your throat tighten. “You’d… be okay with that?”

His eyes softened in a way that made your knees feel unsteady. “I’m more than okay,” he murmured. 

You stepped aside, smiling despite everything. “Come in, Tommy.”

He did, Tommy stepped inside your house like a man walking into unfamiliar terrain. He took everything in quickly, the soft light of the living room lamp, the scattered crayons on the coffee table, the half-drawn pictures on the floor, the faint smell of laundry detergent in the air. Your home felt lived-in and warm. Nothing like his apartment with bare walls and empty shelves.

“So, this is Lila.” You crouched a little, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder as she peeked up at him with wide eyes. “My daughter.”

You straightened, offering him a small smile, the one that said. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I let it get this far without being honest. I’m sorry if this changes everything.

Tommy’s gaze dropped to Lila for a long beat, taking her in, then he lifted  his eyes back to yours, and he pressed his mouth into a flat line, not quite a frown, not quite a smile, just acknowledgment. He gave a single, slow nod, the kind that said he’d heard you, he’d seen her, and he wasn’t running for the door.

Your daughter immediately sprinted back to the couch, climbing onto it, and bouncing once before plopping down with arms spread wide.

“Mommy! Can we watch the movie with the dragon?” she called.

You rubbed your forehead with a tired laugh. “Which one, baby? There are about four thousand dragon movies.”

“The one where the girl is a warrior!” Lila’s voice pitched higher with excitement, her tiny fingers ticking off each detail like she was checking boxes. “And she has a little dragon, and a black horse, and a cricket, and she fights, and—”

“That’s Mulan, baby. Why don’t you go look for it on the DVD rack? It’s probably with all the princess ones.”

Lila gasped, already spinning on her feet toward the shelf. Tommy stood awkwardly near the door, keeping his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, shifting his gaze from you to your daughter and back again. He clearly didn’t want to intrude. His presence, normally towering, felt strangely tentative here, like he was trying to shrink himself out of politeness.

You stepped toward him, giving him a grateful smile. “Come in. Really. It’s okay.”

He nodded, stepping further into the living room. He lingered near the armchair, unsure if he should sit, wait, or stand at attention.  Your daughter solved the dilemma by pointing at him and declaring loudly, “YOU sit THERE.”

Tommy blinked, and you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “Honey… let him sit wherever he—”

But he didn’t look offended, just startled. And then… a little amused. “Yeah?” he said quietly. “That my spot?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, kicking her feet against the couch cushions. “You’re big. You need the big chair.”

Tommy glanced at the chair, then at her, then at you. His voice softened, it was clear he was making an effort into sounding less rough, especially when it came to speaking to a little girl, but clearly had not much experience in it. “Alright. Big chair it is.”

“WAIT! You have to ask it for permission first.” Lila pointed solemnly at the armchair, like it was a living thing that deserved respect.

Tommy paused mid-step, glancing around the room as if expecting someone to jump out and yell “gotcha.” No one did. He dropped his eyes back to Lila’s upturned face, completely serious. She stared right back, expectant. 

He cleared his throat, and turned to face the armchair. “Can I sit down?” he asked, just doing what the kid said.

Lila’s face lit up like he’d passed some test. “It said yes!” she exclaimed, bouncing both legs so hard the couch creaked. “You can sit now.”

Tommy gave the smallest nod, and he sat carefully, as if the furniture might break under him. It didn’t, but the chair did creak in protest, earning a delighted giggle from your daughter. “It made a noise!” she squealed.

Tommy almost smiled, and you felt something warm spread slowly through your chest watching him try.

You picked up the phone. “Okay, how does pizza sound?”

Your daughter hopped up again. “Yes! Yes! Pizza!”

Tommy cleared his throat softly. “I can, uh… pay for it.”

You shook your head instantly. “No. Absolutely not. I feel too embarrassed already for ruining the date. I’m not letting you pay for takeout.”

He looked ready to argue, but your daughter tugged on the leg of his chair, distracting him. “Do you like cheese pizza?” she asked.

He hesitated. “Ain’t had pizza in a while,” he admitted.

Her eyes widened. “What? Why?”

Tommy opened his mouth, ready to explain that with training and fighting, he usually took much care into what he ate, but that seemed too confusing and complicated to explain to a five-year-old, so he lifted one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Just… don’t get it much.”

She gasped dramatically. “That’s SAD.”

Tommy blinked, and you burst out laughing. Slowly, he did too. A small exhale, a twitch of his mouth, a softening in his eyes. Like he didn’t remember the last time a child had spoken to him at all, let alone made him laugh.

You ordered the food while your daughter climbed onto the couch again, dragging a blanket with her.

You glanced at Tommy. “You okay with animated movies?”

He nodded, then frowned slightly. “Uh… can’t say I’ve seen a lot of ‘em.”

Your daughter gasped again as though this were a tragedy. “Mommy, he didn’t watch the dragon movies OR eat pizza?”

“Baby, I think he did eat pizza,” you corrected gently. “Just… not recently.”

“Oh.” She nodded as if this were a great revelation, then she turned to Tommy. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you.”

Tommy stared at her, unsure how to respond, then gave a tiny nod. “Alright.”

You slid the DVD inside the player and clicked play once the film had loaded. Tommy watched you sit beside your daughter on the couch, pulling her into your side. She rested her head on your shoulder immediately, humming contentedly.

“It’s about a girl who goes to war to fight really bad guys,” Lila launched in, barely pausing for breath, “and there’s a lucky cricket, and a funny dragon, and a horse, and the girl falls in love wi—”

You laughed, reaching over to gently tap the tip of her nose. “Baby, don’t spoil him too much, you’ll ruin the whole movie for him.”

Lila’s mouth snapped shut mid-sentence, like she’d just realized the gravity of her near-betrayal. She clapped both hands over her lips, then whispered through her fingers, “Oops. Sorry, Tommy.”

Tommy, still sunk into the armchair like he belonged there, gave the tiniest lift of one shoulder, but his eyes flicked to you for a split second before he looked back at the screen. When the movie started, your daughter scooted forward, leaning her elbows on her knees, fully absorbed. Tommy sat stiffly in the big chair at first, with his back straight and his hands on his thighs like he was waiting for instructions. But after a few minutes, he relaxed a little, leaning back. His eyes flicked to you often in stolen glances he tried to hide. Watching you laugh, watching you smooth your daughter’s hair back, and the way you mouthed some of the lines because you’d clearly watched this movie a hundred times.

And then, unexpectedly, he laughed at something from the movie. It slipped out of him, a soft and yet rough sound that made your heart squeeze.

Your daughter gasped again with delight. “You laughed!” she shouted, pointing at him.

Tommy seemed startled. “Yeah.”

“Do it again!”

“That’s… not how it works.”

“Yes, it is!” she insisted.

You covered your mouth to hide the grin forming. “Honey, let him watch.”

She huffed dramatically and settled back down. Tommy shook his head once, faintly amused. There was a softness there, an unguarded warmth he didn’t usually show, but he couldn’t help it around you.

When the pizza arrived, you all moved closer to the coffee table. Your daughter took two bites before launching into a monologue about kindergarten and her favorite teacher and how she once fed a squirrel at the park and how she thinks dragons were real.

Tommy listened. Sometimes, he blinked slowly, not understanding a word she said about stickers and glitter, but he tried. He nodded at all the right moments, murmured “yeah?” and looked at you sometimes for translation.

Your daughter finally pointed at him with a crust in her hand. “Do YOU have a kid?”

Tommy froze and shook his head once. “No. I don’t.”

Your daughter nodded like this was reasonable. “You should.”

Your heart stopped when you heard those words, feeling your cheeks burn. “Honey,” you said firmly, but your daughter kept going.

“He’s nice,” she said to you, as if announcing it. “And he’s big and strong. And he sat where I told him. And he laughed at the movie. So he should be a dad.”

Tommy made a strangled sound in his throat, caught between confusion and embarrassment. You covered your face with your hands. “Oh, my God. Please, don’t mind her, you know how kids are, they just say whatever pops into their minds. No filter.” You laughed awkwardly.

Tommy’s ears were slightly red. “It’s alright.”

He wasn’t upset, ot uncomfortable, not really. Kids weren’t part of his world, he had zero practice, no blueprint for how to talk to them, what made them laugh, or what scared them off. But sitting here, in your old armchair, watching Mulan on the TV, Lila curled against your side… he didn’t feel out of place.It made sense in a way nothing else had in a long damn time. It all settled over him like something familiar, like he’d stepped into a room he hadn’t known he was looking for.

Your daughter munched pizza for a moment, then leaned sideways into you, already sleepy from a full tummy. You brushed her hair back, and Tommy watched your hand move gently over her curls. He watched your daughter’s eyes flutter closed, and how you lowered your lips to her forehead and whisper something soft.

As Tommy watched you with Lila from the armchair, something in his chest tightened, sank, really. He couldn’t look away, even though part of him wanted to. The way you brushed her cheek with gentleness, the way in which you spoke to her in that soft voice that made everything okay again, it was too familiar. Too close to memories he’d spent years trying to bury. He remembered his own mother like that: the gentle scrape of her fingers through his hair when nightmares kept him awakeunder the covers, the murmur of lullabies she sang until his breathing evened out. She’d looked at him the same way you looked at Lila now, fierce and protective, like the whole world could burn and she’d still stand between it and her kid. That primal, bone-deep love only a mother had fro her child.

When the movie ended and your Lila’s breathing had grown steady against you, you looked up at Tommy again. He was already watching you. “She’s real sweet,” he murmured.

You nodded gently. “Yeah. She is.”

“You’re good with her,” he said.

“I try.”

He shook his head softly. “No. You… you’re good. Real good.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Tommy.”

He swallowed, dropping his sight briefly to your daughter curled against you, then lifting again. “Thank you. For… lettin’ me stay.”

“Of course,” you whispered. “I’m glad you did.”

You lifted her carefully, and she made a soft little noise, a sleepy hum. “Let me put her to bed.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “Yeah. Take your time.”

You carried her down the hallway to her room, tucking her under her blankets, kissing her forehead, and standing there for a moment watching her breathe, letting the peacefulness of it wash through you.

Then you went back to the living room. Tommy was sitting where you left him. He stood instantly when you appeared. You smiled and gestured to the couch. “Do you… wanna sit here? It’s more comfortable.”

He hesitated, but then nodded. He moved slowly, like he was afraid of breaking something, and took the spot on the couch’s far end, leaving a respectful amount of space between you.

You sat beside him, still warm from carrying your daughter, smoothing your dress over your knees. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You folded your hands in your lap.

“I’m really sorry,” you said gently. “That everything tonight got… messed up.”

Tommy’s brows pulled together, his expression denoting his confusion. “Wasn’t messed up,” he said.

“I mean… movie night? Pizza? That wasn’t exactly the dinner date you planned.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“You should’ve had a proper date.”

Tommy shook his head slowly. “This was fine. Better than fine.”

You searched his face, and could see clear as day that he meant it. As you swallowed, you dropped your eyes for a moment before lifting them again. “And… I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I have a daughter.”

He looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with the apology at all. “You didn’t have t’ tell me right away,” he said.

“I feel like I should have,” you continued. “It’s a big part of my life, obviously. And some men don’t want to deal with that. And I get it if it’s a deal breaker. I really do. So if you don’t want to see me again after tonight, or if it’s too much, or—”

“Stop.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through your words instantly. You looked up, Tommy was watching you with that same intense focus he had the night you stitched him up, like he was giving you his full attention because what you were saying mattered. “You think I’d walk away ‘cause you got a kid?” he asked quietly.

“I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Well, I would,” he said.

“What?”

He shifted a little closer, not much, but enough that you could feel his attention settle on you. “I ain’t the kinda man that scares easy,” he said. I’d be an idiot to walk away from you just because you have a kid.”

“My life is… complicated, Tommy.”  And complicated didn’t even begin to cover it. Between the endless string of twelve-hour shifts at the hospital, and the nonstop orbit of a five-year-old who needed snacks, stories, bandaids, and bedtime songs all at once, you barely had scraps of time left for yourself. Forget carving out space for someone else. Dates? Conversations that weren’t interrupted by “Mommy, I’m thirsty”? A night where you didn’t collapse into bed? Those felt like luxuries

“Yeah,” he murmured. “So’s mine.”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning back slightly into the couch. He watched you for another moment, then looked down at his hands. “Look,” he said slowly, “I ain’t been around… families. Not much. Not really ever. So I might be… awkward. Or quiet. Or not know what the hell I’m doin’ around little kids.”

“You did fine,” you whispered.

He huffed a soft laugh. “I talked to a chair.”

“She loved it.”

“Yeah.” His eyes softened. “I could tell.”

There was a pause before he said the next words. “I liked watchin’ you with her. You’re a good mom. It’s… nice. Seein’ that. Real nice.”

Something inside you loosened, unwound, melted, whatever word fit the way your heart warmed and softened all at once. You sighed, looking down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “So… you’re not scared off?”

“Not even close.”

You tried to smile, but the emotion in your chest made it tremble.

Tommy looked at your face, almost carefully, like he was trying to memorize something without making it obvious. “Why’d you think I wouldn’t wanna see you again?”

You hesitated, saying it out loud sounded stupid, but you’d been there before, when guys suddenly made up any excuse to get away with you the moment the word “daughter” left your mouth.

“Because… guys don’t usually want a woman who comes with… baggage.”

“I ain’t other guys. And your daughter isn’t baggage.”

“I didn’t want to… trap you into a situation you didn’t sign up for,” you whispered.

Tommy leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, turning toward you. “I asked you out, not some perfect single version of you. Not some pretend life. You. The real you. Whatever comes with that. So don’t go tellin’ me what I do and don’t want.”

Your lips parted slightly with disbelief about how nonchalant he appeared to be with it all. The room felt warmer suddenly, or maybe it was Tommy leaning closer. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes, stripped of the walls he usually kept wrapped tight around him.

You nodded once. “Okay.”

He studied your face for another moment. “If tonight made you think I’d disappear… you don’t know me very well yet.”

“Then tell me,” you said. “Help me get to know you.”

His breath caught. No one had said that to him in a long time, maybe ever. He leaned back against the couch, glancing down as if choosing his words. “What do you wanna know?” he asked.

“Anything you want to tell me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… don’t talk about myself much.”

“I noticed,” you teased him.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, and he looked at your coffee table, your daughter’s drawings, the empty pizza plates… then back at you. “You make it… easy.”

Your heart warmed so deeply it almost hurt.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly, like he wanted the attention off himself as fast as possible. “What’s… your story?”

You shifted to face him more fully, tucking a leg under you. You told him small things, how you became a nurse after your mother because of how much you admired what she did for others, how long you’d lived here, one year now after you moved, because your old apartment had become too small for a little girl who practically climbed up the walls. You told him about long nights at the hospital, about balancing work and motherhood, about the challenges and the joys.

Tommy listened, and most importantly, he asked questions, simple ones, but thoughtful. He watched your eyes as you spoke, like the way you told your stories mattered as much as the stories themselves. He leaned in when something made you laugh, softening further each time.

You kept talking a little more, but then the conversation quieted. Not because it was awkward, but because there was a natural pause. Tommy shifted slightly, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Then he cleared his throat, a small sound but it was enough to draw your eyes to his.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s about her dad.”

The words were soft, almost reluctant. “You don’t gotta answer if you don’t want to,” he added quietly. “I ain’t tryin’ to pry. Just… curious.”

You inhaled slowly, the question you’d answered many times before, it was something everyone was curious about when you mentioned you were a single mom, but it still stung a little. You picked at the seam of a couch cushion before speaking.

“It’s okay,” you said gently. “You can ask.”

Tommy waited, giving you the silence you needed, not rushing you or pushing you. Just waiting. You folded your hands in your lap. “He wasn’t around much,” you said finally. “Not when I was pregnant. Not when she was born. Not after.”

Tommy’s eyes darkened, not with anger at you, but anger at someone who had hurt you without ever meeting you.

“He… disappeared,” you continued. “Called twice. Maybe three times. Always with excuses. And then nothing.”

“He ever meet her?”

“No.”

“Ever try?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think he wanted to. And I stopped waiting for him to.”

Tommy exhaled through his nose. He looked at your daughter’s photograph hanging on the wall, at her tiny shoes near the hallway, then back at you. “Sometimes…” he said quietly, “it’s better not havin’ a father at all… than havin’ a shitty one.”

The truth in his voicemade you shiver. There was something in the way he said it, in the rawness of your voice that made you believe he knew what he was talking about. “You say that like you know.”

He let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, but more like a huff. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

You waited to see if he’d say something more, not wanting to look intrusive. Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor for a moment like he wasn’t sure where to start. “My dad… wasn’t exactly father of the year.”

You didn’t interrupt, and he kept going. “Man drank more than he breathed. Had a temper. Big one. My mom took most of it. My brother and I took the rest.”

You watched the pain flickering across his face, it looked like a wound that time had attempted to heal, but it was still somewhat open. “You have a brother?” you asked softly.

“Yeah. Brendan.” A faint smile ghosted across his mouth. “Good guy. Real good.”

You could tell, immediately, how much that meant. “Your dad… he hurt you?” you asked carefully.

Tommy swallowed. “Yeah. A lot. Enough.”

“You can stop if you want to.”

He shook his head. “Nah. You asked about him. Just givin’ you the real.”

He leaned back slightly but didn’t put distance between you, just shifted into a position that felt more honest. “I figured out pretty young I had two choices,” he said quietly. “Learn how to hit back, or learn how to take a hit.”

“Did you hit back?”

“Eventually,” he murmured. “But… mostly I got good at takin’ them.”

The admission was so quiet that you felt something ache deep inside your ribs. “And then I got out,” he added. “Joined the Marines. Figured if I was gonna fight… might as well fight for somethin’. Do somethin’ that meant somethin’.”

“Did it?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It did. But it fucked me up too.”

Your heart tightened again. “Tommy…”

He didn’t flinch at the softness in your voice. If anything, something in his expression eased “Lost a lot over there,” he continued. “Friends. Brothers. Pieces of myself I don’t think are ever comin’ back.”

You didn’t speak. You just let him talk, let him unspool himself. “When I came home…” he shook his head. “Didn’t know how t’ be in the world again. Didn’t wanna talk. Didn’t wanna sit still. Just wanted to… disappear. Keep movin’. Fight, not think.”

“And now?” you whispered.

“Now I’m… tryin’,” he said. “Tryin’ not to run all the damn time. Tryin’ to… talk. A little.”

“You’re doing a good job,” you whispered.

He let out a tiny, disbelieving breath, almost a laugh. “You think so?”

“I really do.”

His gaze flicked from your eyes to your mouth and back, then he leaned back again, but only enough to exhale. “So yeah,” he said, returning to your earlier confession. “Sometimes missin’ father figures ain’t the worst thing. Sometimes it saves you from growin’ up broken. She’s got you, that’s enough.”

Your heart squeezed so hard you had to look away for a second, but he wasn’t done. “And if her dad walked away?” he said, voice softening in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. “That ain’t on you. That ain’t on her. That’s on him. He walked out on the best part of his life.”

Emotion swept through you, Tommy saw it, and he just held your gaze with a grounding calm.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t mean to unload all of this. It’s a lot.”

“Nah,” he told you. “You gave me real. I gave you real. That’s fair.”

Suddenly, he seemed to realize how dark it had gotten. He glanced at the window, blinking slowly, like he hadn’t meant to stay this long, like he’d slipped into your world and forgotten time existed.

“I should… probably go.”

You nodded, and he stood first, moving with a kind of heaviness, like leaving wasn’t as easy as standing up and walking out the door. You rose with him, smoothing your dress automatically as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Want me t’ walk myself out?”

“No,” you said. “I’ll walk you.”

You crossed the quiet living room together, his footsteps soft behind yours. When you opened the door, the night breeze slipped in. Tommy stepped out onto your small porch, and you followed him out. Tommy turned to face you. The porch light cast a gold glow across his face, catching the scar at his brow, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the softness of his eyes that he didn’t give to just anyone.

“Thank you for coming,” you said softly.

He huffed the faintest breath through his nose, almost a smile. “Thank you for lettin’ me stay.”

He took a slow step closer, and you felt the heat of him, he wasn’t touching you, but he might as well have been. Another step, he was so close now… close enough that if you leaned forward even an inch, your chest would brush his... close enough to feel his breath ghosting softly across your cheek.

“You’re real easy t’ be around,” he said quietly. “Feels… good. Bein’ here.”

Tommy watched the way your breath caught, and his eyes dipped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “Can I…?”

The question trailed off, he didn’t even finish it. You lifted your chin just a fraction, giving him all the permission he needed with that small motion.

And Tommy moved, he stepped into you with intentionality, but still giving you every chance to stop him. His hand came up first, brushing your jaw carefully, grazing your cheek with his thumb. Then his other hand lifted to your waist, sending electric warmth spiraling up your spine.

He dipped his head, brushing your mouth, nothing but a careful press of lips that felt like a question. He tightened his hand on your waist gently, drawing you closer but not pulling you, just guiding. You felt his chest rise against yours, the tiniest shake of breath he didn’t mean to let slip.

You kissed him back, dragging a low sound from the back of his throat. His fingers slid from your jaw to your cheek, holding you like you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

The kiss deepened. It wasn’t rushed or rough, but hungry in a quiet way, like he’d been holding back all night and this was the first crack. He stroked his thumb over your waist once, and then he moved his mouth from yours to the side of your lips, then lower, across your neck.

You gasped softly as his lips touched your skin, and Tommy froze for a split second, but you didn’t pull away. His lips found the curve of your neck, barely a kiss and almost like a breath, soft enough to make your knees weaken. He dug his fingers gently into your waist, holding you steady while he pressed another kiss, deeper this time, to the side of your throat.

You whispered his name without meaning to. “Tommy…”

His mouth paused against your skin, then he kissed one more time, he brushed his mouth just beneath your ear, and as he dragged his mouth up toward your jawline again, you placed your hand gently on his chest.

He stilled instantly, his body freezing, but not in rejection, in respect. “We should stop,” you whispered. “Before we get ahead into something we can’t finish.”

He stayed close for a few seconds more, with his forehead nearly touching yours and his hand still warm at your waist. Then he pulled back, and you watched a smile paint his face. 

“I wanna see you again,” he said without a second of doubt.

Warmth bloomed in your stomach. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I want to see you again too.”

He exhaled a breath that almost sounded like relief, and held your hand a second longer, brushing his thumb across your knuckles, then he reluctantly let go.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, stepping backward down the porch steps.

“Goodnight, Tommy.”

He walked to his car, turning once to look at you again, before he opened the door. Even long after his taillights disappeared down the street, you could still feel his lips on your neck.

The week unfolded with a new brightness that was woven into the edges of your days. Tommy didn’t text often, but he did text, and that surprised even him. It started the morning after the kiss. You were making your daughter’s breakfast, half-awake, wearing pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, when your phone buzzed on the counter.

tommy: Did you sleep good?

A simple message, but enough to light up your morning, to know he was still thinking of you first thing in the day. You smiled before you could help it.

you: I did. What about you?

It took him a full minute to respond, you imagined him staring at his phone for a while, thinking for a long time before typing.

tommy: Yeah. Been thinkin bout last night.

you: Me too.

tommy: Good.

He texted again that afternoon, and the next day, and just enough the day after that. Never too much, or anything that felt forced. But every message felt sincere.

tommy: How’s your girl doing?

you: She’s good. She’s making you a drawing 

tommy: For me?

you: Yeah, she’s been asking when she can see you again

tommy: I’d like to see her soon Both of you

By Wednesday, he started to send more than short answers. He’d ask about your day, about your daughter’s school, or what movie she watched that afternoon. You told him small things, and he surprised you almost daily by engaging, asking questions, and remembering details.

tommy: She still likes dragons?

you: Obsessed.

tommy: What’s her favorite one?

you: She likes purple ones with wings

tommy: Friday. I wanna take you out. If you’re free.

you: I’m free.

tommy: Good. I got somethin in mind.

you: Oh?

tommy: There’s a big fair down by the water going on all weekend. I used to love the fair when I was a kid.

you: That sounds amazing.

tommy: Thought maybe your girl might wanna go. If that’s okay.

You blinked, like the words might rearrange themselves if you stared long enough.

You read the message once, then twice, then a third time. He wasn’t just asking you out again, wasn’t pretending Lila didn’t exist, or skirting around the obvious complication like so many others would. No, he was asking for both of you. This wasn’t avoidance or tolerance, this was him reaching out, deliberately, to pull her into the picture, to make space for her the same way he was making space for you.

you: Are you sure? I mean… I thought maybe you’d want us to do something alone.

tommy: If your daughter’s important to you then she’s important to me. Ain’t no part of you I wanna avoid.

You pressed a hand to your chest because the emotion hit too fast for you to brace for it.

tommy: If you wanna do something alone we can. But I want to know her if that’s okay with you.

you: It is. It’s really okay.

tommy: Good. Feels right.

you: She’s going to be SO excited.

tommy: I’m excited too. Been thinking about this all week. I want this. You, her, the whole thing. I wanna try.

You set your phone down for a second, pressing your palms into your eyes because the vulnerability and honesty were overwhelming.

you: I want to try too.

tommy: Friday. Pick you both up around 5.

Friday evening came. The sky was painted in gold, fading into lavender. And Tommy stood on your porch holding a small stuffed dragon. You opened the door to find him wearing a dark jacket, jeans, and boots. His hair was a little neater than usual, and he’d shaved. He looked… good. Handsome and strong. But under his rough edges, he looked almost shy.

Your daughter came barreling toward him with the force of a hurricane. “Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!”

He stiffened instinctively, just a fraction, then adjusted his stance like he’d prepared to catch a football. She skidded to a stop right in front of him, staring wide-eyed at the dragon in his hand.

“What’s THAT?”

Tommy looked down at it like he’d forgotten he was holding anything. “Oh. Uh…” He cleared his throat, then held it out awkwardly. “This is for you.”

Your daughter gasped with a sound so dramatic and joyful that it made you laugh. “For ME?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thought you might like it.”

She snatched it from him with both hands, clutching it to her chest. “It’s purple!” she squealed. “With wings like my favorite dragon!”

Tommy blinked in surprise at how much emotion a five-year-old little girl could hold in her small body. “Yeah. That’s… that’s why I picked it.”

Your daughter leapt immediately onto his legs, hugging him with the ferocity of a small bear. Tommy froze like his system had shut down, before slowly, carefully, lowering a hand to pat her back gently.

It was the single most cautious pat you’d ever witnessed, and you had to bite back a smile. “She likes you,” you murmured as you locked your door behind you.

Tommy looked almost startled. “Yeah? Really?”

“She loves the dragon,” you corrected softly. “But yes, she likes you too.”

He looked at your daughter again. “Good,” he muttered.

The fairgrounds exploded into color as you approached, with strings of lights arching over food stalls, the Ferris wheel turning in circles, people laughing, and music booming from the speakers of the carousel. 

Your daughter’s eyes went wide. “There’s EVERYTHING here!” she screamed.

Tommy exhaled softly, looking around. “Ain’t been to a fair in years.”

“You said you liked them when you were little,” you said.

He nodded, drifting his gaze over the crowds. “Used to go every summer with my brother. Ride all the coasters. Eat too much shit food we got sick in the car on the way home.”

You laughed. “That’s how you know you did it right.”

Your daughter tugged his sleeve. “Tommy, can we ride the dragon ride? There’s a dragon there. LOOK.”

Tommy followed where she pointed, toward a kiddie ride shaped like a dragon winding in a small circle. He stared for a few seconds. “…Yeah,” he said. “We can do that.”

Your daughter grabbed his hand, and Tommy froze again. Then, slowly, like he was testing the waters, he closed his fingers around her tiny hand.

You felt something soften so deeply inside your chest that your breath caught. There he was, this big man, holding something so small and fragile. Lila’s tiny hand wrapped trustingly in his much larger one. No hesitation or awkwardness, it felt just… natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before, even though you knew he hadn’t.

The ride line was short, just a handful of kids before you. Tommy stood rigidly beside your daughter in the queue, painfully aware of the parents around him. Every so often, he’d glance at you like he needed reassurance that he wasn’t doing something wrong.

He leaned close. “She’s… uh… allowed to ride by herself?”

You smiled. “She’s five, Tommy. She’ll be fine.”

“And you’re okay with this?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Go put her in the dragon car.”

He took a slow breath, nodded once like he was prepping for battle, and guided your daughter forward. She sprinted to the front, choosing the very first seat in the dragon-shaped car. She climbed in, and Tommy helped her buckle the seat belt, fumbling with it and double-checking the latch.

“Is it too tight? Too loose? You good?” he asked.

She giggled. “Tommy, it’s good!”

“You sure?” he insisted.

“YES!”

He finally stepped back just as the operator started the ride, and you moved to stand next to him. “That wasn’t so hard,” you teased.

Tommy crossed his arms, watching your daughter like a hawk. “I’m keepin’ an eye on her. This thing goes pretty fast.”

“It goes like three miles an hour.”

“She’s too little.”

You bumped his shoulder lightly. “You’re sweet with her.”

His jaw flexed, but he didn’t look at you, just kept his eyes on the ride. “I’m tryin’.”

“She sees it.”

“Yeah? Hope so.”

The ride kept moving, and your daughter screamed in pure joy, waving at you both with enthusiasm. Tommy’s stance softened instantly, whenever she passed in front of him, he lifted his hand in a small wave. It was awkward, a little hesitant… but real.

You spent the rest of the evening wandering through the fairgrounds. Your daughter wanted everything, balloons, popcorn, glow sticks, and face paint. 

She pointed at a balloon cart. “That one! The unicorn!”

Tommy crouched down beside her, lowering himself to her height with surprising gentleness. “Okay,” he said softly. “Pick one, alright?”

She pointed again. “That one!”

“Alright. Stay right here. Don’t move.”

He looked at you next, checking if he was doing it right. You nodded, and Tommy bought her a balloon. She shrieked with delight, hopping in a circle before grabbing his pant leg and wrapping her free arm around him in a sudden hug. Tommy froze again, but slightly less than before. His hand hovered, and then landed gently on her back, giving the lightest squeeze.

Later, you all sat on a picnic bench near the food stalls while Lila devoured a cup of ice cream. Her face was sticky, and she was humming between every bite.

Tommy watched her with awe. “She’s somethin’,” he murmured.

“I know.”

“You do a real good job with her.” His voice was quiet but still carried firmness. “Real good.”

You looked at him, and he didn’t look away. “You’re doing a good job too,” you whispered.

His brows lifted, and he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. “I ain’t doin’ much.”

“You’re trying,” you said. “That’s more than most.”

He swallowed as his voice dropped to something almost vulnerable. “I don’t know how to… be around kids. Never had any. Never been around them.”

You touched his hand lightly. “She doesn’t see that. She sees someone who cares.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking at your linked hands for a long moment, brushing his thumb slowly across the back of your fingers.

Ten minutes later, your daughter had spotted the carousel next and dragged Tommy by the hand once more. This time, he didn’t freeze, he let her tug him along, only glancing back at you once to smile. When she chose the biggest horse on the ride, Tommy helped her climb up. You stood beside him, both of you watching your daughter beam, her hands gripping the pole and her legs swinging excitedly.

Around you, the carousel lights spun, the music filling the air, and your daughter laughing brightly. Tommy’s hand brushed against yours again, and this time he threaded his fingers slowly between yours. And as the carousel turned and your daughter laughed into the night, the two of you stood side by side, with your hands linked.

By the time the fair was winding down, the sky had turned a deep blue adorned with bright stars. The music softened in the distance as families drifted toward the parking lot.

Your daughter lasted exactly twelve minutes into the drive before sleep won. One moment, she was talking and giggling excitedly, with her balloon bouncing on her wrist and the dragon toy gripped in the other hand. The next, her head was slumped sideways, her breathing slowed, and the balloon slipped from her fingers and floated until it bumped the roof of the car.

Tommy looked back at her in the rearview mirror, the sight of Lila sleeping so peacefully softened his features so noticeably that your heart swelled.

“She out?” he asked.

You turned, brushing hair from her forehead. “Completely.”

Tommy drove the rest of the way with the volume turned low, one hand steady on the wheel, the other draped loosely on his thigh. He kept checking the backseat every few minutes, not out of worry, but something gentler, maybe even protective.

By the time he pulled up to your place, the night was quiet except for the soft breathing coming from your daughter’s seat. You reached for your purse, unbuckled your seatbelt, but before you even opened your door, Tommy was already out of the car and circling to the back.

“Tommy—” you began, following him.

He held up a hand gently, not to stop you, just to wordlessly say he’s got it. He opened the back door carefully. Your daughter was curled on her side, hugging the stuffed dragon to her chest, her lips parted in the softest sleep.

Tommy looked at her like she was something fragile and precious. He hesitated for half a second, checking with you. With a small nod, you stepped aside.

“I’ve got her,” he slid his arms under her tiny body with surprising tenderness. She barely stirred, only mumbled one sleepy sound as her head fell against his shoulder. Tommy adjusted her gently, supporting her head with one big and careful hand.

You had never seen a man so powerful move so delicately.

“She’s okay,” he whispered, like you might be worried. “She’s good.”

“She is,” you whispered back, trying not to melt at the sight of him.

He carried her through the parking lot, up the stairs, into the house, quiet as a shadow despite his size. In her room, you pulled back the blanket while Tommy slowly lowered her into bed. His movements were so careful it almost didn’t seem real, his hands easing away, fingers brushing her little curls by accident, freezing as if afraid he’d wake her.

She sighed, rolled onto her side, and hugged her dragon again. Tommy stepped back, relaxing only when he realized she was still asleep. His eyes held something strange and soft, a tenderness he didn’t think he had in him.

You whispered, “Thank you.”

He nodded, stepping out of the doorway so you could tuck her in. After a final kiss to her forehead, you turned off the light and closed the door behind you, leaving her in the warm quiet of her room.

The house felt different when you walked back into the living room with Tommy, more intimate. Tommy… he stood there like he wasn’t sure what to do now, like the vulnerability of the whole night had shaken him loose and left him standing softer than he meant to be.

You smiled, brushing your hair back. “Do you… want a beer?”

He paused, then slowly, he nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You grabbed two cold bottles from the fridge, popped the caps, and handed him one. He took it with the same care he’d shown carrying your daughter, brushing his fingers against yours for a second longer than needed.

You both sat on the couch, close enough to feel each other’s warmth, not close enough to touch

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

Tommy looked at you. “For what?”

“For tonight,” you whispered. “For the fair. For carrying her inside. For being so sweet with her.”

He stared at his beer like he needed something to focus on. “Ain’t nothin’.

“It wasn’t nothing,” you said gently. “It meant a lot.”

He took a slow sip. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Meant a lot t’ me too.”

You let out a breath, leaning back into the couch. “And I’m sorry,” you said suddenly.

Tommy snapped his head up. “For what?”

“For her asking for a million things,” you said with a small, embarrassed laugh. “For dragging you to rides and making you chase balloons and spill ice cream and—”

He cut you off firmly. “Don’t apologize for her. Or for any of it. I mean it,” he said, turning toward you fully now. “She’s five. She’s excited. She’s a kid. That’s how it’s supposed t’ be.”

You swallowed, feeling surprised at his certainty. “And you ain’t gotta be sorry for me bein’ there,” he added. “I wanted t’ be. She’s important to you, so she’s important to me.”

Your throat tightened again. “Tommy…”

“I don’t know what I’m doin’,” he admitted. “Not around kids. Not around… all this.” His hand gestured vaguely to your cozy living room, the toys in a basket, the tiny shoes near the door, the warmth he wasn’t used to. “I ain’t had much of it, but I’m tryin’. And I wanna keep tryin’.”

You felt tears threaten, not sad tears, but something warm and overwhelming. He wasn’t trying to impress you, he wasn’t performing. He was telling the truth. Tommy was offering you something you hadn’t dared to hope for anymore, a man who wanted all of you. Not just the easy nights when you could laugh and flirt without interruption, but every single tangled part, the messy, the real, the part that came with responsibility and no off switch.

He wasn’t flinching. He wasn’t making excuses or quietly fading away. He was staying, and he didn’t just look comfortable. He looked… glad. Truly glad, like being part of this chaos, this small and imperfect family you’d built on your own, was exactly where he wanted to be.

You didn’t realize you’d moved until your hand found his, resting on the couch between you. His fingers froze for a second, then curved gently around yours, brushing the back of your hand in slow strokes.

“You did good tonight,” you whispered.

He huffed a breath, almost a laugh. “Didn’t drop her.”

“You did more than not drop her,” you said. “You listened to her. You were patient. She adored you.”

His jaw tightened with emotion he didn’t know what to do with. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I adored you too.”

He leaned back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, like he was trying to ground himself. “It’s been a long time since I… since anythin’ felt like this.”

“Like what?” you asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he looked at your hand in his. “Ease,” he murmured. “Warmth. Like I’m supposed t’ be here. In this room. With you. And her.”

Your chest tightened so sharply it almost hurt.

“Tommy…”

He swallowed hard, looking away for a moment, jaw clenching. “I ain’t used to that. I’m used to walls. Distance. Hurtin’ people or gettin’ hurt. But this—” He gestured vaguely between you. “This is… good. Scares the hell outta me.”

You slid a little closer on the couch, closing the space by inches. “It scares me too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your knees touched, and slowly, so slowly you felt every second, he shifted toward you, angling his body closer, his hand releasing yours only to slide up your arm, tracing a path so light it made your skin shiver.

You didn’t stop him, so Tommy leaned in a little more. The space between your mouths narrowed until you could feel his breath trembling with restraint.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, almost pained.

You didn’t even think. “It’s perfect.”

A low and relieved exhale escaped him, and then Tommy slid his hand to your jaw, curling his fingers behind your ear, guiding your face up as he leaned down.

The first kiss was soft, barely there, like he was remembering the shape of your lips before claiming them. He pulled back half an inch, resting his forehead against yours, and he kissed you again. Deeper this time, his mouth was warm and sure against yours, the kiss was unfolding like something he’d held back all night. You sighed into it, catching his shirt and pulling him closer. He made a low sound in his throat and moved over you, guiding your body backward until your spine met the couch cushions.

He hovered above you, braced on one hand, the other sliding around your waist, gripping just enough to feel the shape of you under him. You arched instinctively, making him groan.

“Jesus…” he breathed. “I want you so bad.”

Your breath hitched, before his mouth crashed back onto yours hungrily. He shoved his tongue deep, fucking into your mouth like he was starving for it, curling around yours until you moaned into him. His heavy body pinned you harder against the couch, but it still wasn’t enough. You hooked a leg high around his leg, yanking him flush, grinding up shamelessly so the thick ridge of his crotch slotted right against your soaked cunt through your clothes.

He groaned as his hips jerked forward on instinct. You could feel every obscene inch of him, rock-hard and straining painfully against the tight denim, the head of his dick throbbing insistently like it was trying to punch through the zipper just to get inside you. The rough drag of fabric between you only made it worse, his erection pulsing right where you ached.

“Fuck,” he murmured against your mouth, almost a growl. “You’re… you’re killin’ me.”

He moved his lips down your throat, each open-mouthed kiss leaving your skin on fire. Tommy slid a hand up your side, stopping just beneath your ribs, holding you like he wasn’t sure if he should pull you closer or let you breathe.

You arched your neck as he lingered on the curve where your pulse fluttered. “Tommy…” you whispered. He lifted his head instantly, checking you. You cupped his cheek. “It’s okay,” you breathed. “Just… not too far.”

His eyes darkened with both desire and restraint. “I know,” he whispered as he kissed you again, his nose brushing yours. “I know. I won’t. I swear.”

But his body pressed closer anyway, like he physically couldn’t stop himself. He rolled his hips forward in a slow grind, and when you didn’t pull away, he rutted into you shamelessly, with deep strokes that notched the swollen head right over your clit every time, chasing relief for the aching throb in his groin while stoking the wet heat between your thighs until you were clenching around nothing, desperate for more.

He kissed you, sliding his tongue against yours in lazy strokes that left your lips swollen and tingling. Again and again he came back for your mouth, sucking your bottom lip, biting just hard enough to sting, then soothing it with another slow lick, until your head spun and your whole body felt molten under him.

His hand roamed with tenderness, splaying his palm over your waist, digging his fingers in like he needed to anchor himself; sliding up to cup the underside of your breast, brushing the stiff peak through your shirt until you arched into it, then down again, gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, pulling you tighter against the insistent grind of his erection. 

He never shoved under your clothes, never rushed past the line, but every touch made your breath shake, like he was memorizing every inch of you while barely restraining the urge to tear everything off and bury himself deep.

His voice was low against your collarbone. “God, you feel good…”

His mouth traveled back to yours, capturing your lips one more time before he slowed, then stilled, breathing hard above you. He pressed his forehead to yours. “I should stop. Right now. Before I do somethin’ I shouldn’t.”

You cupped the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the short hair there. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “If I stay any longer, I will.” He kissed you once more time before pulling back. “It’s late,” he murmured.

“I know.”

He pushed himself up off you slowly, like every inch of separation cost him something. Tommy dragged a hand through his hair, tugging hard at the roots as if the sting might ground him back to reality. His chest rose and fell too fast from the way he’d been grinding into you like he could fuck you through the clothes if he just pressed hard enough.He shifted his weight, dropping one hand low to discretely adjust the thick, straining bulge in his jeans. The denim was stretched tight over his cock, the outline unmistakable now, still throbbing from all that relentless rutting against your heat. He tried to angle away as he stood, but you’d already felt every pulsing inch of him notched right where you ached most.

Tommy snagged his jacket off the back of the chair, then his eyes found yours, the look wasn’t polite. It said I’m walking out that door because if I don’t, I’m gonna bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until neither of us can stand. 

He walked to the door, cupping your waist one last time. “You’re somethin’ else,” he said.

“So are you.”

He stepped outside onto the porch, breathing in the cool air like he’d been holding his breath beside you. “I’m seein’ you again,” he said, no hesitation at all.

“I hope so.”

“You will.” He paused, looking at your lips again with that hungry restraint. “Soon.”

You whispered, “Goodnight, Tommy.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “Goodnight.”

And he walked away slowly, every few steps looking back at you before getting into his car and finally pulling off into the night, leaving you breathless on your porch, and wanting him even more.

The next day, Tommy had texted you, already planning the next time he was gonna see you. Dinner, together on Friday night, this time only you and him alone.

Friday came fast, all week, your mind kept circling back to him. His hands on your waist, his body over yours, the way he whispered how good you felt. By Friday morning, you were already checking the clock too much. By the afternoon, you were useless, picking up the same objects twice, staring into your closet like none of your clothes were good enough.

Your daughter sat on the living room floor, drawing a dragon with concentration, her tongue sticking out just a little. You peeked around the corner and said, “Honey? I need to tell you something.”

She didn’t look up. “Is it about TOMMY?”

Your heart fluttered. “Yes,” you laughed. “About Tommy.”

She turned all the way around, looking at you with her big eyes wide open. “He’s coming to play dragons?”

“No, sweetheart,” you said gently. “Tonight he’s taking mommy out. Just him and me.”

Her mouth made a perfect O. “A date?”

You swallowed softly. “Yes. A date.”

She crawled closer on her hands and knees like a kitten. “But… why?”

Your heart melted at the blunt innocence. “Because I like spending time with him. And he likes spending time with me.”

She squinted at you like she was a detective. “Like friends?”

“Like… something that might become more than friends.”

She blinked, then asked the most important question in her mind. “Will he bring me more dragons?”

A laugh escaped you. “Maybe next time. Not tonight.”

She nodded solemnly. “Okay. But tell him I said hi.”

“I will.”

You kissed her forehead, ruffling her hair. “Now I have to go get ready, alright?”

“Can I watch you get pretty?”

You hesitated, but she was already scrambling to her feet. How could you say no?

You stood in front of your mirror, trying to decide between two dresses. Lila flopped dramatically onto your bed with a gasp.

“That one!” she declared, pointing to the dress you weren’t even holding.

You laughed. “Sweetheart, I’m not wearing the Christmas dress to go out.”

“But it sparkles!”

“It does,” you agreed, “but I don’t want to blind Tommy.”

She hummed thoughtfully, then poked your leg. “Wear the green one.”

That was the one lying across the back of your chair, a soft green dress that hugged your waist and was backless, simple but elegant. “You think so?” you asked carefully.

She nodded enthusiastically. “It makes you look like a princess.”

“Well… okay then.”

You slipped it on. Your daughter rolled onto her stomach with her chin in her hands, watching you like you were a princess from a movie. You brushed your hair, then curled a few pieces. 

“You’re so pretty,” she sighed. “Tommy’s gonna FALL OVER.”

You choked on a laugh. “Let’s… hope not.”

Next came a tiny bit of makeup, nothing heavy, just a shimmer across your eyelids, mascara, a soft hint of color on your lips. 

“Mommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

 “A little.”

“Why?”

You thought about it, lowering your hand after finishing applying your mascara. “Because I really like Tommy,” you admitted.

She nodded like she understood the weight of that. “It’s okay to like him.”

You smiled. “I know.”

“Is he going to be your boyfriend?” You froze, and her eyes widened at your silence. “Oh.”

You sat beside her on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair back gently. “I don’t know yet,” you said honestly. “But… maybe in the future. If things go well.”

She considered this with the seriousness of a little kid. “Well,” she said decisively, “I like him. He’s big, but he’s not scary.”

“You don’t think he’s scary?” you teased.

She shrugged. “He’s nice big. Like a bear. Or a giant.”

“Well… I’m glad you like him,” you said, pulling her into your lap for a hug. “That means a lot to me.”

The babysitter arrived ten minutes early this time. They exchanged greetings, and Lila immediately began showing her the newest dragon drawing.

“You going somewhere fancy?” the sitter asked with a smile when she saw your dress.

You tried hard not to blush, imagining Tommy’s reaction when he saw you. “A little.”

“Well, you look great.”

Your daughter burst in before you could respond. “My mommy looks like a princess, and Tommy is her knight!”

You covered your face. “Okay, sweetheart, that’s enough.”

The babysitter laughed reassuringly. “Go. Have fun. She’s in good hands.”

You knelt to your daughter’s level. “Alright, honey. I’ll be home in a few hours. Listen to the babysitter, okay?”

“Tell Tommy I said he BETTER bring me a dragon next time.”

You laughed softly. “I’ll pass the message.”

You kissed her cheek, hugged her little body, and stood. As you grabbed your purse, you took one last deep breath and stepped out into the cool night air. The moment the door closed behind you, your heart began to race, and at the bottom of the stairs, leaning casually against his car was Tommy.

He straightened when he saw you, dragging his eyes slowly over you, taking in your dress, your hair, the soft color on your lips, and the look that crossed his face was equal parts heat and disbelief. “Jesus…” he murmured. “You look…” He swallowed like he needed a moment to compose himself. “…you look incredible.”

Your heart fluttered wildly. “You cleaned up nice too.”

“Ready?” He asked, you nodded and walked toward him.

Tommy opened the car door for you like he’d rehearsed it. The door swung open, his other hand hovering near your waist as you climbed in, like he wanted to help but didn’t want to presume. When he slid into the driver’s seat, he glanced at you again, just a quick look.

“You look real good,” he said, catching on your lips for a half-second too long.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “You too.”

He huffed a quiet laugh like he didn’t quite know how to take a compliment. “I tried.”

The drive was smooth, Tommy kept one hand on the wheel, the other draped loose over his thigh. Every so often, you caught his eyes flicking your way, then back to the road, like he couldn’t help it.

After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “You nervous?” he asked.

You smiled at how transparent he could be around you. “Yeah. You?”

He didn’t even pretend. “Yeah,” he admitted. “A little.”

You rested your hands in your lap. “It’s a good kind of nervous.”

He glanced at you then. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is.”

After a couple of minutes, the restaurant came into view, and it was nicer than you expected. One of those intimate and romantic places that look like they come from out of a romantic movie.

Tommy parked the truck, got out, and walked around to open your door again. You took his offered hand as you stepped down. He curled his fingers around yours firmly, as if he didn’t want to let go too quickly.

Inside, you were seated in a small booth in the corner, with a candle flickering softly between you. Tommy sat across from you, his posture was alert but comfortable, you noticed it in how relaxed his shoulders looked. The table was small enough that your knees brushed under it, but neither of you moved them away.

“So…” you said, picking up your menu with a grin. “Do you come here often?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You makin’ fun of me?”

“Maybe,” you teased.

A slow smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t. Been here a few times. Figured it was… nice. For a real date.”

“I’m glad you brought me here.” You could see how much thought he’d put into it,how much this actually mattered for him.

He ducked his head slightly and focused intensely on his menu for a moment. After a few seconds, he said, “You can get whatever you want. Don’t hold back.”

You laughed. “What do you think I’m going to order? A gold-plated steak?”

He smirked. “Dunno. You look pretty fancy t’night.”

You laughed, and the sound seemed to soften something in him, his whole expression shifted into something almost boyish.

It didn’t take long for conversation to start flowing. You told him about your day, about Lila’s latest favorite movie, about the dragon drawings overrunning your fridge. Then you nudged lightly, “What about you? What did you do today?”

He took a sip of water, exhaled, and started talking, slowly at first, then progressively more comfortable as you coaxed him gently.

He told you about training, and you listened. “You must be exhausted after that,” you said.

“Not so bad,” he replied, shrugging. “Been doin’ it a long time.”

“Still,” you said. “You work hard.”

His eyes lingered on you. “You do too. Harder than me, I bet.”

You shook your head. “Tommy…”

“You do,” he said more firmly. “Raisin’ a kid, workin’ at the hospital. That’s real strength.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten.

“I’d like for you to come see me fight one day,” he said almost careful, like he was testing the words before letting them out. “I get it if it’s not your scene. But I promise it’s not at rough as it sounds.” He rushed the last part, like he didn’t want you to feel pressured, already giving you the out.

You tilted your head, smiling “I think I’d find it… interesting.” The word came out soft. “And if you don’t win, I’ll be right there in the front row with ready to patch you up. Might even kiss it better.”

Tommy let out a rough chuckle. “Nah. No way I’m losing if you’re there staring at me the whole time.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you held his look. “Then I’ll be the one cheering the loudest.”

Before he could respond, the waiter returned, and you both ordered. When the food arrived, you slipped easily back into laughter and conversation. Tommy told you about Brendan, sharing stories from his childhood, at least the few happy ones he could remember. Later, as plates were cleared and you shared dessert, you noticed the way he watched you, and how every now and then, your knees brushed under the table, and his breath would hitch for a split second before he leaned back in, unable to keep distance for long.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he said quietly at one point.

“You are too.”

He snorted. “I ain’t easy at anything.”

“You’re wrong.”

He looked at you, like he was trying to understand why you kept saying things that made his chest feel strange. “You havin’ fun?”

You didn’t even need a second to answer. “Yes,” you whispered. “A lot.”

You watched as the relief softened his features. “Good.”

He took a slow sip of his drink, then said, “I ain’t had a night like this in… a real long time.”

“Me neither,” you admitted.

When the bill came, Tommy reached for it before you even moved.

“Tommy, we could split—”

He shot you a look that said not to even bother finishing that sentence. “I asked you out,” he said, sliding his card into the leather folder. “I’m payin’.”

You raised your hands, surrendering. “Alright.”

He smirked. “Good.”

Outside, the night air was cool, he walked beside you, close, but not too close. His arm brushed yours once, and he didn’t pull away. You reached the car, and he opened your door again. When you turned to thank him, he stood a little too close. Close enough that you felt his breath and saw the flicker of heat in his eyes.

His voice dropped a fraction lower. “Still nervous?”

“Not as much.”

His gaze dipped briefly to your lips, then he stepped back letting you climb in. When he settled in the driver's seat, he drummed his fingers restlessly against his thigh, like he was trying to work up the courage to say something. He kept glancing at you, then back to his hands, then at you again.

You had to bite back a smile. “Tommy?” you asked softly.

His grip on his thigh tightened. “Yeah.”

“You okay?”

He let out a low breath. “Yeah, I… yeah. Just…”

He looked at you then, like he was weighing the risk against his desire.

“Can I… ask you somethin’?” he said finally.

You nodded. “Of course.”

His rough voice was barely above a whisper. “You wanna… come over? To my place?”

For a moment, he didn’t breathe. He looked so nervous it was sweet. With his eyes faintly wide, and his grip tight, like he thought he’d just ruined everything and was bracing for the blow. But you had no doubt. In fact, you’d been waiting and hoping for him to ask exactly that. The night wasn’t ready to end, and neither were you. Your skin still felt hot from the memory of that last kiss on your couch, you’d replayed it too many times since, imagining what would’ve happened if Lila hadn’t been asleep down the hall.

“Yes,” you said quietly. “I want to.”

His exhale came out shaky and relieved. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” you repeated, smiling. “Take me.”

He let out a tiny and disbelieving laugh. “Alright then.”

The drive took only five minutes, but it felt like the air grew warmer with every turn. His apartment complex was modest, tucked behind some trees. He parked, killed the engine, and for a second neither of you moved. Then he got out and came around to open your door, because of course he did. As you climbed down, his hand lingered on your lower back longer than it needed to.

Inside, his apartment was clean and minimalist. The lights were low, but you could see a couch, a coffee table, and a dining table with four chairs.

He closed the door behind you and stood still for a moment like he wasn’t sure if he should let you settle in or grab you by the waist and kiss you senseless. He chose the second.

Tommy stepped in close, allowing you to feel his breath warm against your cheek. “C’mere.”

You didn’t even have time to respond before his mouth was on yours, hungry and impatient, sloppy in the way you’d been craving. He slid his hands to your waist, pulling you in and pressing you against him. You responded by tangling your fingers in his shirt and pulling, and he groaned as he stumbled you backward until the back of your knees hit the couch.

You fell onto it with a soft gasp, Tommy followed, bracing himself with one arm above your head, the other gripping your hip as his mouth crashed into yours again. You tugged him closer by the front of his shirt and he deepened the kiss, settling his body partially over yours, pressing into you in a way that made your head spin.

He dragged his lips to your jaw, then your neck, his breath trembling against your skin. He whispered into the curve between your neck and shoulder. “Fuck… I want you so bad.”

Your fingers sank into his shoulders, feeling the strength there. Tommy kissed you again, slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to memorize every inch of your mouth. When you finally pulled back to breathe, your lips were swollen, his were flushed, and both of you were panting.

He rested his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, even as his hand slid over your waist. 

You shook your head. “I’m not telling you that.”

He let out a strained laugh, kissing you again in a quick press. “Good.”

You leaned back slightly, still breathless. “Tommy… I need to tell you something.”

He froze immediately, his eyes darkening with concern. “What?”

Your hand slipped to his jaw, brushing the faint stubble. “It’s been… a long time since I’ve done this.”

“How long?”

Your voice came quiet. “Since my daughter.”

Tommy’s expression shifted instantly. The desire was still present in his eyes, but it softened into something more protective. “Since… she was born?”

“Yeah, I just… I was busy. A lot changed. I didn’t really date. I didn’t have time or energy for people who weren’t serious. And I didn’t want anyone around her who wasn’t safe or good. So… it just never happened.”

Tommy studied you for a long moment, and then a hand slid up to your cheek, brushing tenderly along your skin. “That’s okay,” he said softly, so softly it almost broke you. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“I just didn’t want you to think—”

“I don’t think anything bad,” he leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Not one thing.”

You exhaled shakily, and he rested his forehead against yours until your noses were touching. “And if it helps,” he whispered, “it’s been a long time for me too.”

“How long?”

He shook his head. “Long.”

“Tommy…”

He sighed, brushing his knuckles down your cheek in a careful stroke. “Long enough that tonight feels… important.” 

He kissed you again then. "Bedroom?" His touch on your cheek, grounding you even as his hips shifted subtly, grinding just enough to make you gasp. "We'll be more comfortable there. If you want."

You swallowed, nodding, your body already aching for more. "Yeah. I want."

He led you down the short hall, keeping his hand laced with yours. The bedroom was simple too, a bed that wasn’t too big with dark sheets, a nightstand with a half-read book and a water bottle, and a closet.

Tommy turned to you then, stepping close and backing you toward the bed. "You sure about this?" his eyes were searching yours in the dim light. "We can stop anytime. Just say the word."

"I'm sure," you whispered, loud enough to be heard over your heart pounding. "I want you, Tommy."

That seemed to unlock something in him. He walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the mattress. You sat, and he followed, kneeling between your legs on the edge of the bed, his broad frame was towering over you in a way that made your thighs clench. Tommy ran his hands up your sides, brushing the undersides of your breasts through your dress.

"Can I take this off?" he asked, hooking his fingers under the straps of your dress. "Wanna see you. All of you."

You nodded, lifting your arms as he peeled the fabric up and over your head, tossing it aside. The cool air hit your skin, pebbling your nipples instantly under the thin lace of your bra. Tommy dropped his gaze to take you in. "Fuck," he muttered, almost to himself, like he couldn't believe you were real. 

His hands came up, cupping your breasts gently at first, circling the stiff peaks through the lace with his thumbs. "These are perfect. You feel that? How hard you got me already?" He took your hand, bringing it to the front of his pants just so you could feel the hard press of his cock, already stirring to life.

You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping as he squeezed your tits, massaging them with a hunger that made heat pool between your legs. "Tommy..."

He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, down the swell of one breast. "Tell me if it's too much," he said between kisses, his voice muffled against you. "Or if you want it different."

"It's good," you breathed, threading your fingers into his short hair. "Keep going."

He unclasped your bra with one hand and slid it off, exposing you fully. His eyes met yours for a beat, checking, before he dipped his head, taking one nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp, swirling slowly, sucking gently at first, then harder as you whimpered. His free hand worked the other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers, pinching just enough to send jolts straight to your clit.

"Like that?" he asked, pulling off with a soft pop, his lips looking shiny and swollen. "Feels good?"

"Yes… god, yes," you panted, guiding his head to the other breast. He obliged immediately, latching on with a groan, sucking deeper this time, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud in a way that had you squirming. 

Your heart melted at how attentive he was, how much care he poured into every single touch. He wasn’t just skilled, but considerate too. He knew you were nervous after so long without this kind of contact, without anyone touching you like this, and wanted you to feel good instead of just taking what he needed. Every time he checked in with you, it chipped away at the last of your hesitation. He wasn’t rushing, he was making sure this felt right for you, that you were enjoying every second, that the nerves twisting in your stomach turned into heat instead of fear. And god, it worked, the more he asked, the more he listened, the safer you felt.

His hands were everywhere, kneading, caressing, worshiping your breasts like they were the center of his world. He alternated between them, lavishing attention until they were flushed and aching, every lick and suck drawing out louder moans from you.

All the while, his body pressed closer, one knee nudging your thighs apart so he could settle between them. You felt the hard bulge of his cock against your inner thigh, but he didn't grind, he sucked harder on your nipple, flicking his tongue relentlessly while he trailed his hand down your stomach.

He paused at the edge of your panties, lifting his head to look at you. "Can I touch you here?" he asked, tracing the lace trim. "Tell me if it's okay."

"Please," you whispered, lifting your hips instinctively. "Touch me."

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips like he was relieved, like making you feel good was all that mattered. He cupped your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing his palm firmly against your mound, and you bucked into it, the friction sending sparks through you. 

"Fuck, you're soaked," he murmured, almost in awe, as his fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit through the damp lace. "That feel right?

"Yeah… harder," you gasped, and he adjusted instantly, pressing more firmly, rubbing up and down your slit until the fabric clung to you, outlining every fold from how drenched you were. He went back to your breasts then, closing his mouth over one nipple again, sucking in time with his strokes.

You were writhing now, clutching the sheets with your hands, the dual sensations were overwhelming: his hot mouth tugging at your tit, nipping gently, while his fingers worked you over your panties, teasing your entrance through the barrier, circling your clit until it throbbed. "Tommy... more," you begged

.

He lifted his head, kissing the underside of your breast softly. "Want my hand under? Want my fingers inside you?" His eyes searched yours, always checking. "Or we can keep going like this if you want."

"Inside," you nodded frantically. "Please. Need you."

He kissed you, before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs slowly, like he was savoring the reveal. You kicked them off, spreading your thighs wider, exposed and dripping for him. Tommy groaned, settling back between your legs, one hand returning to your breast, kneading it gently while his other hand finally touched you bare.

His fingers were calloused, rough from training, but so gentle as they parted your folds, slicking through your wetness. "God, you're so wet for me," he rasped, circling your clit with his thumb while he teased your entrance with one finger. "This okay? Tell me how it feels."

"Perfect—keep going," you moaned, rocking your hips into his hand.

He slid one thick finger inside you deliberately, letting you feel every rough callus drag along your slick walls as he pushed in to the knuckle. The stretch was perfect, enough to make your breath hitch, not enough to overwhelm. He curled it upward immediately, hooking right against that swollen and spongy spot deep inside, pressing firmly until sparks exploded behind your eyelids and your hips jerked off the mattress on instinct.

“Like that, baby?” His thumb never stopped its relentless circles over your clit. “Feels good? Want it deeper? Tell me.”

“Deeper… fuck, Tommy, deeper,” you pleaded, your thighs already trembling around his wrist. “Another one. Please.”

He groaned against your breast, the sound vibrating straight through your nipple as he obeyed without hesitation. He withdrew just enough to line up a second finger, then pressed both in together, carefully stretching your soaked cunt wider. The burn was exquisite as your walls fluttered and clenched greedily around the invasion, when he sank them to the hilt. 

Tommy paused there for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, letting you feel how full you were, how perfectly his fingers filled the aching emptiness you’d been carrying since that night on the couch. Then he started to move with slow pumps at first, dragging out almost to the tips before sliding back in, curling them hard against your g-spot on every upward stroke. 

The wet squelch of your arousal filled the room with every thrust, loud enough to make your cheeks burn even as it turned you on more. He scissored his fingers gently between thrusts, spreading you open, working your tight walls until they softened and yielded around him, greedy for every inch.

His mouth found your tits again, he e latched onto one swollen nipple, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks, flicking his tongue fast and mean over the stiff peak while his free hand kneaded the other breast, rolling the neglected nipple between fingers. 

“Feels good?” he rasped against your slick, spit-shiny skin. His fingers were fucking you faster now, deeper as the heel of his palm was grinding down hard on your clit with every brutal thrust. “This what you need? Want me to curl ‘em more? Tell me, baby, I’ll give you anything.”

“Harder… fuck, right there, don’t stop,” you gasped, digging your nails into his shoulders, bucking your hips wildly to meet his hand. “Right there, Tommy—”

He growled, the sound was feral, and he gave you exactly what you begged for. He slammed his fingers deeper, curling viciously against that spot on every stroke, slapping his palm wetly against your swollen clit with force. The pressure coiled tighter, a knot low in your belly that kept winding and winding until your whole body felt like it was vibrating on the edge.

He never let up on your tits, they were so sensitive now, flushed and aching, every hard suck and pinch shooting pleasure straight to your core, amplifying the rhythm of his fingers fucking you open.

Your thighs shook, your breath was coming in short and desperate sobs, and the coil inside you finally snapped.

“Tommy—I’m—fuck—I’m cumming—”

He didn’t slow down. If anything, he fucked you through it harder, curling his digits relentlessly, grinding your clit in tight circles, sealing his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as your walls clamped down around.

You shattered. The orgasm ripped through you in violent waves, forcing your back to arch off the bed, and your thighs to clamp around his wrist. A broken cry tore from your throat as your cunt pulsed and gushed around his fingers, soaking his hand, the sheets, everything. Tommy kept fingering, kept grinding until every last tremor was wrung out of you and you collapsed back against the mattress.

Only then did he ease up, slowing his thrusts to gentle strokes, circling your oversensitive clit with feather-light touches now.

“Fuck… you’re beautiful when you cum,” he rasped as he slipped his fingers free slowly, leaving you empty and fluttering, and he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan, never breaking eye contact.

"Need a second? We can slow down if—" He asked, but you didn't want slow down. The aftershocks of your orgasm only made you crave him more.

After five long years without the touch of a man, Tommy had woken something primal in you, a hunger you hadn’t even realized was sleeping inside your bones. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be wanted like that, and now the hunger was awake.

Your hands reached for the hem of his shirt before he could finish, curling your fingers into the soft cotton and tugging upward. "No," you breathed. "I don't need a second. I need you."

Tommy lifted his arms, letting you peel the shirt off him. It hit the floor with a thud, forgotten instantly as your gaze raked over his bare torso. God, he was built like a Greek god, with his broad shoulders carved from years of training, every muscle defined and rippling under his skin. His chest was like a wall, you moved your eyes to the chiseled V of his abs, and the happy trail leading to the place you wanted to see the most. 

Your hands explored him greedily, sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of his skin. "You're... incredible," you murmured, tracing the lines of his pecs, the way they flexed involuntarily under your touch. He was ripped, every inch of him honed to perfection, like a fighter's body should be, but up close, it was overwhelming. Powerful arms that could pin you down or hold you up, abs that tensed as you scraped your nails lightly over them. You leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his collarbone,  inhaling the musky, masculine scent of him that made your head spin.

Tommy exhaled, settling his hands on your hips, squeezing gently as you worked lower. "Like what you see?" he asked, a hint of that rare, teasing half-smile in his voice.

"More than like," you replied, your voice a purr as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants. You popped the button, dragged down the zipper slowly, feeling the heat radiating from him even through the fabric. 

He lifted his hips just enough to help you shove the pants down his thighs, kicking them off along with his shoes. Now he was down to his boxers, black and fitted, straining obscenely over the massive bulge of his cock. The outline was clear: thick, long, the head already pushing against the elastic, a dark spot of pre-cum soaking through where he'd been leaking for you.

You palmed him over the thin material, wrapping your hand around the hard length as best you could, feeling it twitch and throb under your touch. He was huge, veins pulsing under the fabric and against your palm as you stroked him slowly from base to tip. 

Tommy tipped his head back for a second. "Fuck... yeah, just like that."

"I want it," you whispered, squeezing him a little harder, rubbing your thumb over the damp spot where his pre-cum had seeped through. The words tumbled out, bold and needy, your core aching anew at the thought of him inside you.

He looked down at your hand stroking his cock, and then he snapped his eyes back to yours. He reached down, covering your hand with his own, guiding you to stroke him firmer. "Take it," he rasped. "It's yours."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You stroked him for a while longer, slow pulls that had his hips bucking subtly into your hand and his breaths coming ragged. You watched his face, the way his brows furrowed, how he parted his lips on quiet groans, how his abs flexed with every twist of your wrist. He was beautiful like this, undone, but still so controlled, letting you set the pace even as his cock wept more pre-cum, soaking your palm through the boxers.

Finally, you couldn't wait any longer. You pushed at his chest gently but firmly, urging him back. "Lay down," you said. "I want to ride you."

Tommy complied without a word, shifting up the bed to lean against the headboard, his body stretching out beneath you like an offering. He hooked his thumbs into his boxers and shoved them down, freeing his cock at last. It sprang up, thick and curved slightly, the shaft veined and flushed. Your mouth watered at the sight, god, he was perfect, bigger than you'd even fantasized, and you ached to feel him stretch you.

You straddled him quickly, until your knees were bracketing his hips, your slick folds brushing against his length as you settled over him. Tommy's hands found your waist, steadying you, but he didn't push, just held you.

 "You set the pace," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "Whatever feels good for you. I'm here."

You nodded, reaching down to grip him, lining him up with your entrance. The first press of his head against your soaked pussy made you both gasp, he was so thick, splitting you open inch by inch as you sank slowly. 

"Oh god—Tommy," you moaned, bracing your hands on his chest, digging your nails into his pecs as you took him deeper. The stretch was exquisite, burning in the best way, your walls fluttering around him until you bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

He groaned, tightening his fingers on your hips but not guiding you, allowing you to move however you pleased. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he breathed. "So tight. So wet for me. Take what you need, baby."

You started slow, rolling your hips in experimental circles, feeling every ridge and vein drag against your sensitive walls. The fullness was overwhelming, hitting spots inside you that made you see stars behind your eyes. You built a rhythm, lifting and dropping, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. 

Tommy watched you, transfixed as his hands roamed up to cup your breasts, flicking your nipples in time with your movements. "That's it," he encouraged you. "Ride me just like that. Does it feel good?"

"Yes—feels so good," you panted, speeding up, bouncing harder now, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Your tits bounced with the motion, and Tommy couldn't resist leaning up to capture one in his mouth again, sucking hard as you rode him. The added sensation pushed you higher, and you took the lead fully, chasing your release, angling your hips to hit that perfect spot inside, grinding down until he was as deep as possible.

Tommy let you, his groans were muffled against your breast, his hips staying still beneath you, letting you use him however you wanted. But you could feel him throbbing inside you, his control fraying as your pace grew frantic. "Gonna cum," you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to your chest. "Tommy—I'm close—"

"Cum on me," he growled against your skin, dropping one hand to rub your clit in tight circles. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock. Cum for me, baby."

Waves of ecstasy crashed over you, your pussy clenching around him as you cried out, shuddering. You ground down hard, riding out the orgasm, milking him with every pulse until you were boneless, collapsing forward against his chest.

That was when Tommy wrapped his arms around you, holding you close for a moment, kissing your shoulder as you caught your breath. But he wasn't done, not even close. You felt him shift beneath you, planting his feet flat on the mattress for leverage, gripping your ass firmly.

Tommy drove up into you with force. His cock slammed home in one punishing stroke, the head battering that spot inside you that made your vision go white and your breath punch out of your lungs in a broken cry.

“Fuck—Tommy—”

He didn’t slow down or ease up. He kept giving you relentless upward thrusts that lifted your hips off him every time before slamming you back down onto his length. His hands gripped your ass harder, digging his fingers into the flesh, spreading you wider so he could bury himself even deeper with every snap of his hips.

.“Still with me?” he growled. Even now, mid-fuck, with his hips pistoning like a machine, he checked. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Too good—don’t stop,” you gasped. “Harder—please—”

“Like that?” he snapped his hips up harder, the head of his cock grinding against your cervix with every stroke. “You take it so fucking well. So tight.”

The bed creaked under the force as he continued to snap his hips with power, every drive stretching you wider, filling you completely. "Fuck—take it," he grunted, sweat beading on his brow, muscles straining as he pounded into your slick heat. "You feel so fucking good. So tight around me."

It was overwhelming, almost animalistic, his hands were bruising your hips as he held you in place, using your body to chase his release. You moaned brokenly, oversensitive but loving it, the slap of his balls against you echoing with the wet sounds of your arousal and Tommy's breaths that came in harsh pants.

“Fuck! Where do you want it?” he ground out, the words slurring together as he fought to keep control. “Tell me quick… can I… can I finish inside you? Need to know, baby. Right fucking now.”

You clenched around him on instinct and nodded frantically. “Inside,” you gasped. “Cum inside me, Tommy. Fill me up! Please.”

He groaned your name like a curse. “Fuck—can’t hold it—gonna cum—”

One last brutal thrust, holding you down so every inch of him was buried to the hilt, and he broke. His cock pulsed violently inside you, and soon thick spurts of cum were flooding your already soaked channel. He kept thrusting through it, nothing but short, jerky rolls of his hips that milked every last drop out of him, grinding his release deeper while your walls spasmed and clenched around him in aftershocks. 

A low, guttural moan tore from his throat, shuddering beneath you as he emptied himself completely, “Fuck… take it all. All yours… all fucking yours.”

For long moments, neither of you moved, his softening cock was still twitching inside you every few seconds as the last pulses faded. “Still okay?” he murmured eventually, pulling you down so you lay fully on top of him. 

You managed a shaky laugh against his neck. “More than okay.”

You didn’t want to break the moment. If it were up to you, you’d stay right there all night, wrapped in the solid heat of his arms, his big body curled protectively around yours, the thump of his heartbeat against your back making everything else feel distant. But the clock on his nightstand glowed, it was far later than you’d realized, and Lila was waiting with the sitter. 

“I should get going,” you said softly, your voice was still a little husky from everything you’d just shared. “I wish I could stay longer, but Lila—”

“No, no, I get it.” Tommy cut in gently before you could finish, like he’d already anticipated the words. He pressed a slow kiss to your forehead. “She comes first. Always.”

He rolled off the bed. Naked and unselfconscious, he padded to the bathroom, you heard the faucet run, then he was back seconds later, with a warm, damp washcloth in one hand and a soft towel in the other. He knelt between your legs without a word. The cloth was warm against your sensitive folds as he cleaned you with careful strokes, wiping away the mess he’d made. Every few passes, he paused to press soft, open-mouthed kisses to the crease of your thigh, the soft skin just above your knee, the curve where leg met hip.

You shivered again, this time from the tenderness more than anything else. When he was done, he helped you sit up, steady hands on your waist. You reached for your dress, muttering half-heartedly, “I can do it myself—”

“Let me,” he said simply, already gathering the fabric. He slipped it over your head with surprising gentleness for someone so strong, smoothing it down your sides and zipping you up. 

Then he stepped back into his own clothes, and finally dressed, he wrapped both arms around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest. His chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke low against your ear. “I had a great night,” he said. “Probably the best night I can remember in… a long damn time.”

You turned in his arms just enough to meet his eyes. “Me too,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his in a kiss. “It was… perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He kissed you back, deep but gentle, like he was memorizing the taste of you, then pulled away with visible reluctance. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

A/N: Soooo, here’s the fic based on an idea someone sent me a long time ago about Tommy Conlon and a single mom reader.

I was writing this and pasting each section into the draft as I went until it eventually reached the limit lol. It was originally meant to be longer and just one part because nobody reads series anymore apparently, but I guess now I’ll have to make a second part to include the rest of what I had in mind. Let me know if you’d like to read that, or if I should just leave it like this.

I feel like I poured a lot of personal details about myself into this, both into the reader and a bit into Lila as well. (Also, I have no idea how a five-year-old is actually supposed to speak or how much they understand about life, so just ignore that haha.)

The hospital lights faded behind Robby as the automatic doors hissed shut at his back. It was past eight p.m., but the moment the night air brushed his face, the bone-deep tiredness drained away. He knew what was waiting for him at home, there was no space left for exhaustion.

He was fifty-four now. Too old for some people’s tastes, but still young to others. Caught somewhere in the middle where the body began keeping score of  the accumulated stress, every skipped meal, every skipped gym session, and every cigarette smoked. And lately the score included the humiliating betrayal of his own dick.

He fished the small blue pill out of the zippered pocket inside his jacket as he walked the first block on his way home. The tablet dissolved on his tongue as he swallowed it dry, making him grimace at the aftertaste. 

It started about a year ago. It had been just… gradual, first it was a night when the want was there, he was so pent-up, he’d waited all day long to finally bury himself inside you, but the response was sluggish, and for some reason he couldn’t keep his dick up no matter how much he wanted to. Then it was another night where it didn’t happen at all, he’d been incapable of getting an erection in the first place. He’d laughed it off the first few times, said he’d had a long shift, or was too tired, it happened to every man at least once in their lifetime. Except it kept happening, and the truth turned into something he couldn’t keep denying, he had erectile dysfunction. Suddenly he was one of those old men, the ones who needed pharmaceutical help to do what used to happen automatically.

And then there was you, full of that energy that came from not yet having your soul sanded down by the weight of the years. You fucked like you were still discovering how good it could feel, like every time was the first time and the last time all at once. You wanted him constantly, you climbed into his lap after a shower, sent him filthy voice notes at 3 p.m. while he was still at work, you waited up for him in nothing but one of his shirts, with your legs already parted like he’d be able to get hard and inside you the second he walked through the door.

He wanted to give that to you. Christ, he really wanted to. The drive was still there, so strong it was almost painful some nights. He’d be one his way home after a deadly shift, and his brain would flash to the way your thighs clamped around his head when you got close, to that little broken sound you always made when he hit that spot just right, and the way your cunt fluttered and gripped him like it was trying to keep him forever. 

But none of that could get him hard, and it pissed him off. He was pissed with himself. With biology too. Pissed at the unfair arithmetic of it all, he was finally with someone who made him feel twenty-five again in every way except the one that mattered most, in bed. He was supposed to be the experienced one, the one who knew exactly how to unravel you until you were shaking and begging and cumming so hard you forgot your own name. Instead he was popping little blue pills and praying they kicked in before you started minding how long it took

He hated waiting. The worst part was the way you looked at him sometimes, not with disappointment, never that, but with patience. You were so sweet and understanding, and it was your infinite patience that somehow made it worse. He didn’t want patience, Robby wanted to pin you to the mattress and fuck you until the headboard dented the wall. He wanted to feel that raw and animal surge again without needing chemical backup, but it was impossible, his cock had stopped obeying him.

On every red light on the way home, he quickly pressed the heel of his palm against the front of his cargo pants, checking if his dick had decided to react already. But every time he did, he was still soft. 

“Come on,” he muttered to his own traitorous body. “She’s waiting. She’s wet for you. She’s been thinking about this all night. Don’t fucking fail her.”

Once he finally made it to the house you both shared,the place was still dark except for the soft light coming from inside the bedroom. You’d left the bedroom door cracked, the way you always did when you were already in bed waiting for him.

He kicked off his sneakers and placed the jacket and badge on the hook. When he pushed the bedroom door, he found you propped against the headboard in nothing but one of his old faded t-shirts, with the hem riding high on your thighs. Your eyes found his immediately, sleepy, and yet so hungry for him. You didn’t say anything at first, just shifted, letting your legs fall open just enough that he could see you were already wet, the cotton crotch of your underwear dark where a patch of your slick arousal had formed, making the fabric cling to your drenched folds.

“Hi, you,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer with words. He crossed the room in three strides, hitting his knees on the mattress, reaching for you with his hands until he found your face. The kiss was messy and desperate from the start, clicking your teeth together from so much desire. You opened your mouth for him immediately, curling your tongue against his, sliding your hands under the scrub top to drag your nails lightly down his back, earning a from his mouth.

You broke the kiss just long enough to tug the top over his head, and he let you. You still remembered the first time you’d stripped him bare, how he’d hesitated, how embarrassed he’d sounded as he muttered an apology about not having enough time to hit the gym anymore. You’d turned that shame into an obsession for the silver-threaded hair across his chest, and for the way his once-flat stomach had softened into a warm and rounded swell that begged to be grabbed, kneaded, and kissed.

Your hands went to his chest first, sliding your palms through the coarse grey curls, finding a nipple and pinching it sharp enough to drag a moan from his throat. Then you went lower, gripping the meat of his sides, digging your thumbs into the plush give of his belly, stroking and squeezing the soft layer that jiggled faintly under your touch. You mapped every inch like you were claiming it.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you breathed against his mouth. “Look at this gorgeous body… I’m so wet for you right now. I need your cock inside me, Michael. Please.”

He knew that tone, you were already desperate and he had to distract you before you got impatient for something he couldn’t give you quite yet.

Robby surged forward, latching his mouth onto your throat. He sucked hard, painting a dark bruise just below your jaw while he shoved your shirt up roughly, exposing your tits to the cool air. He closed one palm over your breast, squeezing it with force, his thumb found your nipple and rolled it mercilessly until you were arching your back off the bed and moaning his name in ragged gasps.

“Michael—”

He dipped his head, closing his mouth over one of your stiff peaks, swirling his tongue in circles around it, then flicking it fast against it, making you jolt. He sucked hard, pulling the nipple deep into the heat of his mouth. The suction sent sparks straight to your core, and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.

Robby used his free hand to knead the other breast, digging into the soft flesh, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch the neglected nipple, tugging until it throbbed. Then he switched, abandoning one glistening and swollen peak with a lewd pop only to latch onto the other, sucking even harder this time, lashing his tongue relentlessly while his teeth grazed the bud just enough to make you cry out.

Robby was already hard enough in his mind, but the rest of him was lagging. You reached down between you, slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. His cock was still soft. Still heavy and thick, but soft. You traced your fingertips over the hot length of him, trying to coax him to get harder, and he let out a shaky breath against your collarbone.

You pulled back just enough to look at him. “When did you take it?”

“After shift,” he muttered. “Fifteen minutes ago. Maybe twenty.”

You whined needily and unashamed. “I want it now.”

He laughed tiredly. “Greedy girl. You know how this thing goes, gotta give it time to work.”

You pouted, acting a little bratty cause you knew how much it drove him crazy, keeping your hand wrapped around him, stroking his member slowly, sweeping your thumb over the head, the most sensitive part, on every upstroke. “Don’t wanna wait.”

“Too bad.” He said nipping your earlobe. “You’ll wait however long it takes.”

You loved Robby with an intensity that words could never fully capture. And the sex with him? It was better than anything you'd ever felt with anyone else. He was the only older man you’d ever been with, and the first time his cock refused to harden, the panic hit you. You blamed yourself instantly, maybe you weren't turning him on anymore, maybe your body wasn't enough, maybe you'd done something wrong in the heat of the moment.

But Robby had pulled you close, and reassured you that it wasn’t your fault. Then he gave you the unfiltered truth, the medical and biological explanation: As men get older, the arteries narrow, the inner lining of the blood vessels gets less responsive, and the production of nitric oxide, the very chemical that signals those vessels to relax and let blood rush in, drops. That means poorer vasodilation and slower blood flow to the penis. It takes longer to get hard, or it just... doesn't happen, no matter how badly he wanted it.

He’d promised you that his desire for you was still intact, he wanted you the same as the first day, even more than he’d ever wanted anyone else in his life. And you’d never once shamed him, never let the word “impotent” even brush your lips, never made him feel like less of a man. To you he was still your perfect Michael, the one who could wreck you pill or no pill.

If anything, knowing how badly he still craved you only made the want hotter. You wanted him more now, because you could see that frustrated, almost feral edge when he pinned you down, grinding against you, desperate to bury himself deep and fuck you into the mattress until you couldn’t think straight… but his cock stayed stubbornly soft, thick but not hard enough yet. That look on his face, the aching need mixed with irritation. didn’t make you pity him, it set you on fire. Your cunt clenched just watching him fight his own body for you, rolling his hips uselessly against you. You’d whisper filthy encouragements against his mouth “I love how hard you’re trying for me… how bad you want to split me open” just to feel him shudder.

You slid down the bed, pushing at his hips until he rolled onto his back. Your hands found the waistband of his cargo and underwear, and you pushed them down all at once. Robby lifted his hips a little to help you slide them off his body.

He was fully bare under you now, with his cock lying soft against his left thigh. You settled between his legs, tucking your knees under you, with your hair falling forward to curtain your face. He reached down, gathering it in one fist so he could watch what you were about to do.

You started with soft kisses, open-mouthed along the crease of his hip to the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and then to the base of his member. He twitched just a little, but not enough. You dragged your tongue flat up the underside, tasting the salt and clean flavour of his skin. 

His soft tummy tightened, and a curse slipped out his lips. “Fuck, baby…”

Even when he wasn’t hard yet, the warm slide of your mouth felt incredible against the sensitive skin of his cock. Every swirl of your tongue around the head or suck along the underside, sent jolts of pleasure straight up his spine. And the sight of you kneeling between his spread thighs, with your lips stretched around him, and your cheeks hollowing as you worked him was mentally arousing. His mind was flooded with images of finally getting rock-hard, flipping you over, and pounding into you until you screamed his name. 

You took him into your mouth anyway, despite the softness. It was easy to fit all of him this way, and so you sucked gently, with your tongue cradling the head, letting him fill the wet heat of your mouth without any real pressure. It was more comfort than stimulation right now, and he kept his hand in your hair, not guiding you, just holding. 

Minutes dragged by, and you took your time, alternating between lazy and wet sucks that pulled the soft length deeper into your mouth, and delicate kitten licks along the underside, tracing every vein with the flat of your tongue. You kissed lower, brushing the heavy sac before drawing one of his balls into your mouth with gentle suction. He shifted his hips restlessly, chasing the sensation, twitching his fingers against the sheets. He was still mostly soft gainst your tongue, pliant enough to mold around the curve of your mouth, but there was a change now, a subtle thickening at the base, a new heaviness settling in as blood began getting there. You felt it swell just a fraction against your palm when you cupped him, and then felt the head starting to nudge firmer against the roof of your mouth. Not hard yet, but waking up for you.

You pulled off with a wet sound, looking up at him through your lashes. “Getting there,” you murmured, stroking him with your fist. He was heavier in your hand already, and you noticed how the veins were beginning to stand out.

“Yeah?” His voice sounded wrecked. “Keep going.”

You did. You worked him with patient devotion, moving your mouth and hand in a slow rhythm. You focused on the head mostly, sealing your lips tight around it, sucking gently but insistently while your tongue swirled over the slit, coaxing out every bead of pre-cum and mixing it with your spit until the tip glistened. Your saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, dripping in strings down the soft shaft, pooling at the base where it met his balls.

You slid down further, taking him deep in one easy glide, relaxing your throat to swallow around the length until your nose was brushing the hair at his groin. You held there for a heartbeat, humming so the vibration rippled through him, and then pulled back, letting your lips drag along every inch, leaving him soaked and twitching.

Every few minutes you paused to worship him properly, pressing kisses and nuzzling the flesh like it was your favorite thing in the world. You whispered dirty words right against his skin, “come on, baby, get hard for me… I can feel you starting to swell… fuck, I love how heavy you feel in my mouth already… just let it happen, I’ll wait as long as it takes to feel you stretch me open. Look at you… so pretty like this… just wait till you’re hard enough to fuck me stupid…”

He laughed breathlessly. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Another minute, or maybe two or three, and his thighs started to tense under your palms. You felt the slow swelling, the way he lengthened against your tongue, until the head nudged the back of your throat now when you took him deeper, making you gag a little.

“There it is,” you breathed, pulling off to watch. His cock stood proud now, flushed dark at the head, glossy with your spit and his pre-cum. Fully hard, finally.

Robby thumped his head back against the pillow. “Jesus fucking Christ. Took long enough.”

You grinned wickedly and triumphant, and gave the head one last kitten lick before crawling back up his body, until you were straddling his hips. 

Once you did, Robby noticed immediately how wet you were. He slid his hands up your thighs, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of your panties. He dragged them down just enough to bare you, then cupped you with one broad palm, sliding his middle finger through your slit. You were dripping, it made his finger glided easily, collecting slick that stringed between your cunt and his hand when he pulled back to look.

“Fuck me,” he said half-laughing. “You’re a lake down here. Been this wet the whole time I was soft in your mouth?”

You rocked against his hand. “Mhm. Couldn’t help it. You taste good even when you’re not hard yet.”

He snorted, but his eyes were dark brown with hunger. “Filthy little thing.” He circled his finger over your clit once, making you jolt and whimper. “All that patience… sucking me off for twenty-five minutes straight just so you could get this messy for me.”

“I wanted to get you hard,” you breathed, grinding down harder, making the head of his cock, gloriously hard, nudge against your entrance. “Want to feel you inside me already.”

“Yeah?” He grabbed your hips, stilling you just enough to lift you up so he could line himself up properly. “Then prove it. Sit on it.”

You took hold of his shaft with one hand, letting it rest right in your entrance. You were soaked, slippery enough that the first press of his head against your cunt made you both moan.

Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch. The blunt head breached you first, parting your slick walls with a burning stretch that made your breath hitch and your thighs tremble. You felt every ridge and every vein as he filled you deeper, making your cunt clench greedily around the gradual invasion until your ass finally pressed flush against his hips.

You were both shaking now, him from the grip of your pussy swallowing him whole, you from the overwhelming fullness that pressed right up against that deep spot inside. His hands clamped on your waist, digging into your flesh, holding you pinned and still for one long heartbeat. 

You looked down and saw the almost pained, overwhelmed expression on his face. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” The words tore out of him. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. You gotta relax for me… please.”

He groaned it like a plea. Every time your walls gripped him too hard, the friction turned unbearable,and he needed a second to allow your body to adjust, otherwise the pleasure turned into pain for him. “Just… breathe, baby. Let me feel you open up around me. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me if you keep squeezing like that.”

After a couple of minutes, your cunt finally stretched around his unyielding length, and Robby exhaled a shaky breath. He gave a single nod of permission. “Go on, baby.”

Then you started to move, slow at first, with rolls of your hips that ground your clit against the hair at his base while his thick cock dragged along your inner walls. Every slow circle stretched you anew, the friction making obscene sounds that filled the room as your arousal coated him completely, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls. His head fell back against the pillow with a groan, and you leaned forward, planting your palms firmly on the soft expanse of his chest, feeling the thud of his heart under your fingers.

You snapped harder now, riding him with purpose, up until just the head stretched your entrance, then slamming back down to take him to the hilt again. Each downward grind made you flutter and spasm around him, as his hands slid up to grip your ass, digging his fingers in to help you fuck yourself onto him faster.

“Fuck! Michael… right there—”

He planted his feet flat on the mattress, with his knees bent and hips angled just right beneath you. The shift gave him leverage, and the next time you sank down, he thrust up hard to meet you halfway. The collision was brutal, his cock slamming deep and stretching you open all over again as your ass slapped against his hips. 

He groaned. “That’s it—fuck, take it.”

Each upward snap of his hips met your downward grind, burying himself to the hilt every time. Sweat covered his skin under your palms, nd you watched his rounded belly flexing with every powerful drive. He wasn’t holding back anymore, he gave you hungry thrusts that claimed you from below. You cried out, digging your nails into his meaty soft pecs. He sit up suddenly, banding his arms around your back, crashing his mouth into yours as he fucked up into you with short but punishing strokes.

He watched you mesmerized, one hand palming your breast, the other staying clamped on your hip to guide your rhythm. “Look at you. Riding me like you’ve been starving for it. So wet I can hear it every time you take me.”

“Michael, please—!”

“Please what, baby? Please fuck you stupid? Please let you cum?”

“Yes! Fuck! Yes—”

You came suddenly, seizing as your walls spasmed around his cock, clenching in frantic pulses that milked him deep. A gush of slick poured out of you, soaking his shaft and coating his thighs and the sheets in a messy puddle. Robby didn’t stop, he kept thrusting up into you, grinding the base of his cock right against your swollen clit.

The friction was brutal now, and you whimpered pathetically, jerking your hips as you tried to squirm away, pushing weakly at his chest. “Robby—fuck, too much, I can’t—”

“Not done,” he growled against your lips. “Not even close.”

He flipped you without warning. One second you were on top, and the next your back hit the mattress. Robby hooked your legs over his shoulders, pressing your knees toward your chest. The new angle was brutal, and he bottomed out in one hard thrust, grinding his pubic bone against your clit. 

Robby fucked you with long and punishing strokes, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, snapping his hips with the kind of force that made the headboard thud against the wall. You were loud, you just couldn’t help but moan his name, beg and babble nonsense as he railed you into the mattress.

“So fucking good,” he gritted out between thrusts. “Taking me so well. You were made for me… fuck—gripping me like you never want to let go.”

You felt your orgasm building faster than you could control, the pleasure coiling tighter in your core until it bordered on desperation. Your body moved on instinct, sliding one hand down between your thighs, finding your swollen clit and immediately circling it in little loops. The nub was slick, throbbing under your touch, each rub sending sparks straight up your body.

His eyes dropped to watch, locking on where your fingers worked yourself shamelessly. The sight snapped something in him, and the thrusts turned brutal. “Yeah, that’s it, rub that pretty little clit for me,” he growled. “Show me how bad you need to cum again.”

He angled his hips just right on the next upward, grinding the fat head against your g-spot. You sped up your fingertips on your clit, matching the rhythm of his grinds until you snapped.

You came violently, a cry toreing from your throat as you shook uncontrollably. Robby almost lost it right there when your cunt spasmed around him again. But he wasn’t done, he yanked out of you fast before he spilled. In one rough motion he flipped you onto your stomach, gripping your hips and hauling them up high so your knees dug into the mattress, with your ass arched in the air. 

You pressed your face into the pillow, still dazed from the aftershocks, but he didn’t give you time to catch your breath, just lined himself up and slammed back in from behind in one single thrust, burying every inch to the hilt. The stretch was immediate, your walls being forced open wider in this new angle, his cock punching straight against your cervix.

Robby fisted a handful of your hair, yanking your head back to arch your spine into a perfect curve, until your tits were pressed to the sheets and your ass presented high. “Fuck—take it deeper, baby,” he growled.

The new position let him sink impossibly further, and the added stimulation of his balls slapping wetly against your clit on every drive made you whine his name loudly.

His rounded belly was pressed flush against the curve of your back, molding to your spine until the heat of his body surrounded you completely, cocooning you in his grounding weight that made you feel owned and claimed.

Robby wrapped his big hand around your throat, curling his fingers possessively around the column of your neck, pressing the thumb lightly against your racing pulse. He held you tight like that, arching you back further into him, keeping your body locked in place as he started pounding into you faster.

His stomach jiggled faintly with the impact, and guttural groans spilled from his throat right against your ear, “Fuck… feel that, baby? How deep I’m buried in this tight pussy? You’re taking every fucking inch.” His grip on your neck tightened just enough to make your head spin, holding you exactly where he wanted while he fucked you into the mattress with raw need.

“Cum again,” he ordered. “Cum on my cock one more time. Wanna feel you milk me.”

You had no choice but to obey him. The pleasure crested again, and you climaxed around him for the third time, squeezing him so tight it felt like you were trying to pull him apart. Your arms gave out beneath you, your elbows buckled as you collapsed forward onto your forearms, with your face mashed into the pillow and your ass still high and impaled.

Robby followed right after, his hips stuttered, the thrusts turning erratic until the moment where he buried himself to the hilt one last time, throbbing inside you and pulsing hard with every thick spurt. He came deep, flooding you with rope after rope of his sticky hot cum that filled you so full you could feel the excess leaking out around his shaft, dripping down your thighs and soaked the sheets beneath.

He stayed buried inside you, grinding through the aftershocks, milking every last drop while your cunt fluttered around him. He loosened his hand on your throat, sliding down to stroke your back in sweeps.

Robby pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “Think the wait was worth it?”

You laughed weakly, clenching around him just to make him hiss. “Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I’ve written this concept a few times for Joel before, and after getting some asks about it, I finally decided to write one for Robby too.

I’m actually really excited about it because erectile dysfunction is one of the hottest topics for me to explore in fics. I’m definitely not opposed to writing more Robby one-shots with this theme in the future if that’s something you’d like to see.

As your last year of residency began to end, the ABEM Qualifying Exam loomed ever closer. You'd been grinding through the material and question banks, with textbooks piled high on the living room desk and flashcards scattered on the floor.

Tonight, you'd been chained to the desk since 8 a.m., doing a grueling 300-question practice exam that hammered your resolve, followed by meticulously reviewing every single wrong answer, and crafting new flashcards with notes so detailed they bordered on obsessive.

By 10 p.m., your head throbbed. You finally shoved back from the desk with a groan, rubbing your temples hard enough to hurt. "Ugh. I can't keep doing this shit."

Robby looked up from the couch, setting his phone aside. "Break time?"

"Bedtime," you muttered, standing and stretching the deep kinks from your back, feeling your spine crack in protest. "My brain's absolute mush. If I see one more vignette about altered mental status, I'll fucking scream."

He stood too, crossing the room in a few strides to wrap his strong arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder, his beard scratching just enough to send a faint shiver down your spine. "You did well today. Eight hours straight, that's hardcore."

"Feels like torture." You leaned back into him, his solid warmth seeping through your thin shirt, grounding you in the midst of the mental storm. "What if I fail? What if I walk into the pitt and they all know I didn’t pass the ABEM? I'll be a fraud.”

"You won't fail." His voice was steady, the same one he'd used to calm you down on your first day as a resident. "You're nailing the practice scores. You're ready, more than ready. Besides, you had me as your teacher, there’s no way you’re not ready."

You turned in his arms, burying your face in the broad expanse of his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne. "I don't feel ready."

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there for just a moment. "Come on. Bed. You'll keep studying tomorrow until you feel ready."

Upstairs, you slid under the covers, and Robby climbed in beside you, pulling you close immediately. You tried to relax, willing your muscles to unclench, but your mind raced, flashing back to the questions you'd fucked up today.

"Ugh," you groaned into the pillow, muffling the frustration. "I can't turn my brain off. I just keep thinking about that cyanide case I got wrong."

Robby moved his hand, stroking down your back in soothing motions, his palm warm. "Want me to quiz you? Help burn it out of your system?"

You huffed a weary laugh. "At midnight? No. I need sleep, not more mental gymnastics."

His hand didn't stop, though. He slid his hand lower with intent, cupping your hip possessively, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every inch of his growing arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. "Or… I could distract you another way."

The suggestion ignited a spark in your belly, your body traitorously responding even as your mind weakly protested the indulgence. "Robby…"

"Come on." He rolled you onto your back with effortless strength, settling between your thighs, pinning you into the mattress, a reminder of his physical dominance that always made your pulse quicken. His mouth found your neck, kissing it just enough to draw a gasp. "Let me help. We'll make it fun."

You arched into him despite yourself, sliding your hands into his tousled hair, tugging lightly as heat pooled between your legs. "Fun? How is quizzing me any fun?"

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils were blown wide with lust. "I'll quiz you. While I fuck you. Answer right, I go harder. Wrong… I slow down."

The idea was ridiculous. Every time Robby fucked you, your brain turned to mush, completely fogged over from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that coursed through your body, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You highly doubted you could concentrate on medical questions when you had him pounding into you, but why have a chief attending boyfriend if you couldn’t make use of it?

You laughed breathlessly, already aching for him. "You're insane."

"I am an insanely good teacher." He kissed you deep, plunging his tongue into your mouth with hunger, claiming you as his hands roamed, sliding under your tank top, brushing your nipples until they hardened into tight peaks, pinching them just hard enough to make you whimper. "Say yes."

"Yes," you gasped, your cunt slick and throbbing from the filthy thought alone.

He didn't waste a second. His boxers came off in a swift tug, revealing his thick cock, veined and heavy, curving upward. Your shorts and panties were shoved aside roughly, the fabric scraping your skin as he exposed your dripping cunt. He was throbbing against you, his cock so rigid it felt almost angry, the head swollen and glistening with thick beads of pre-cum that strung between his slit and your cunt every time he dragged himself along your slit. He smeared the slippery mess deliberately, painting his shaft with your slick until every veiny inch shone with it.

He kept teasing your hole with just the fat tip, dipping in perhaps half an inch before pulling back, letting your entrance kiss and clutch at him uselessly. Each nudge stretched the rim the tiniest bit, forcing another gush of your arousal to spill out and run down his length, dripping onto your ass and the sheets below.

Your pussy was trying to suck him deeper, but he still refused to give you more than those maddening and shallow fucks, only the head popping in and out, stretching you open over and over while his pre-cum mixed with your cream and trickled inside you.

"First question: What is the most significant risk factor for hospital-acquired pneumonia?

You moaned as he pushed another inch in, stretching your slick entrance wide, the thick ridge catching deliciously against your rim. Every slow inch he denied you, he made your cunt clench around him, desperate for the rest. The burn was exquisite, but he held himself there, barely inside, letting you feel how thick he was, how much more you’d have to take.

Robby smeared your slick back up with drags of his fingers, pressing the pads of his middle and ring fingers right over your l clit. He rubbed circle while the head of his cock stayed lodged just inside you, refusing to sink even a single brutal inch deeper.

Every slow grind of his fingertips sent l jolts through your core, making your clit pulse under the pressure, already so oversensitive from the teasing that you jerked your hips involuntarily, trying to chase more of him. He just held you pinned there, one hand locked on your hip so you couldn’t sink down, the other working your clit.

"Full—fuck—It’s mechanical ventilation.." You answered without thinking twice.

"Good girl." He thrust in halfway slowly, splitting your pussy open inch by thick inch. The stretch was obscene, your walls yielding to him with resistance, every vein dragging against your sensitive inner flesh until you felt impossibly full yet still achingly empty. "Preventive measures?"

"Avoiding intubation when possible and—" You gasped as he bottomed out in one final roll of his hips, burying every unrelenting inch of his cock balls-deep inside your tight hole. Another fresh rush of wetness leaked out around his base, dripping down to coat his sack. “M-minimizing sedation during intubation as much as possible."

"You’re missing a few, but good enough for now." He started moving with slow rolls of his hips, filthy grinds that never let more than an inch or two slip free, keeping you stuffed obscenely full of his cock at all times. Each circle dragged the head along your front wall, grinding right over that sensitive spot inside you while the shaft stretched you wide, "Elevating the head of the bed and draining subglottic secretions, and assessing readiness to extubate daily. Other risk factors for HAP include older age, chronic lung disease, aspiration, multiple trauma, opioid exposure, and paralysis.”

You clenched around him involuntarily, gripping his broad shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. "Right, I was right, fuck—Robby! faster, please, fuck me faster."

He sped up just a little, enough to turn those lazy grinds into something harder, more brutal, each thrust now snapping forward with force while still staying mostly buried inside you. Every plunge stretched your walls anew, battering your cervix relentlessly until your cunt spasmed wildly around him, trying to grip the invading shaft even as he forced it deeper.

"Next: cyanide poisoning. Presentation?"

"Headache, nausea, confusion… cherry-red skin, bitter almond smell." Your words came out stuttered, broken by filthy moans as he hit that sweet spot inside you, making stars burst behind your eyelids.

"Smell not always present," he corrected you as he slowed his pace just a fraction, enough to turn every thrust into torture. Robby was moving agonizingly slow now, pulling out almost to the tip before sinking back in with control. You whined, high and needy, the sound was as pathetic as your hips buckling uselessly, chasing more friction, more depth, more of anything to ease the aching emptiness he left every time he withdrew.

Your thighs trembled violently, and still he kept that maddening rhythm, making sure you felt every second of being stretched and filled and then denied. Feeling him slow down was pure torture, a cruelty that had you shaking and begging without words for him to ruin you faster.

"Labs: metabolic acidosis, high lactate, venous blood gas looking like shit, anion gap wide open. Now, treatment?" He asked.

"Hydroxo… cobalamin. Sodium thiosulfate if—" You whimpered as he ground deep, holding there, pressing his pubic bone against your clit. "—if severe, to bind that… that… Oh God! That cyanide before it shreds the cells."

"That’s correct." He rewarded you, turning his thrusts faster now, snapping his hips with a ruthless, building rhythm. Each plunge was wet and loud, splitting your pussy open over and over until the slick sounds turned obscene.

You bucked up your hips into his, chasing more, more, more. The tears pricked in your eyes from the intensity, as your cunt dripped in gushes that coated his fingers and shaft. Robby moaned against your neck, but his pace never faltered, his thumb never stopped, ruining you with every fast stroke and every cruel circle until you were sobbing his name.

"Keep going," you panted, lost in the filthy rhythm, your cunt clenching greedily around his pounding cock. “Please, Robby! I need it.”

"Let’s get into toxicology. Acetaminophen overdose. Phases?"

You tried to focus, but the thumb on your clit was relentless, circling in tight loops that were timed with his thrusts, your juices soaking the sheets beneath you. "Phase one: nausea, and… and vomiting… first 24 hours. Two is asymptomatic, but LFTs rising. Three is hepatic failure. Days three to five, jaundice, encephalopathy, liver-shutdown."

"Perfect." He went harder, with unrelenting force. Each savage thrust bottomed out hard, slamming against your G-spot, stretching your hole to its limit, his heavy balls smacking rhythmically against your ass with every plunge. "Antidote?"

"N-acetylcysteine." Your voice broke on a guttural moan, the coil in your belly tightening to the breaking point. "IV preferred. Oral if mild, but who wants to puke it up?"

"Good answer." He used his free hand to pin your hip down, controlling the depth, fucking you like he owned you. "Disaster triage, START method. Black tag?"

"Dead or.. Fuck! Expectant. No resus… futile, resources better spent on the salvageable."

"Good." He rolled his hips faster, his cock throbbing inside you, making you squirm and beg with your body. "Red tag?"

"Immediate. Life-threatening but salvageable. Airway compromise, massive bleeding, shock… get them stabilized, or they crash."

"Very good." He picked up the pace even more, pressing his thumb harder on your clit, sending shocks through your nerves. "Yellow?"

"Delayed… serious but not immediate. Fractures, open wounds… can wait without dying."

"Right. You’re doing so good, baby." His thrusts turned punishing now, each one slamming home so hard they knocked the breath from your lungs and made your whole body jolt against the mattress. He fucked you like he was trying to break you open. "Green?"

"Minimal… walking wounded. Minor injuries, scrapes, and… and b-bruises."

"Perfect." He groaned, a sound that came from his throat, his rhythm faltering as he neared the edge, his cock swelling thicker inside you. "One more: pediatric airway management. Foreign body obstruction, infant under one year?"

"Back blows, five, then chest thrusts… five. Alternate… Shit! Robby! Ngghh— Alternate until clear or unresponsive… dislodge that choking hazard before brain damage sets in."

"And that is correct." He grinded deep, circling his hips to stir your insides. "What if the baby’s unresponsive?"

"CPR… start with airway check, remove object if visible. Robby… please, I can’t— please let me cum."

"Not yet. Keep going, I know you can. Tell me the adult version."

"Heimlich, with— with abdominal thrusts until clear or unresponsive, drive that fist in to pop it out."

"So smart." He drew tighter circles with his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves, more insistent now, pressing the rough pad down hard and rubbing perfect spirals right over your throbbing clit. The friction was merciless, so slick with your own dripping arousal, making his thumb slide easily.

"Last one: A 30-year-old woman presents to the ED 12 hours after swallowing 34 tablets of paracetamol 500mg. On arrival: HR 120/minute, BP 110/80 mmHg, RR 20/ minute. Initial treatment?

Your brain was foggy, every thought felt like it had to swim through honey to reach the surface. All you could catch were fragments: ED, swallowing, paracetamol. And so you said the first thing that occurred to you. "A-administration of activated charcoal.”

"With an ingestion of 17g at 12 hours?" He slowed frustratingly so, until his hips stilled completely, holding himself buried balls-deep inside you. He gave you nothing else, no thrust, no grind, no mercy, just the maddening fullness of him owning every inch while your cunt clenched desperately around the motionless shaft, rippling and spasming in helpless waves, trying to milk the friction he cruelly refused to provide.

You were so close to cumming, right fucking there. And now your whole body was wound tight, your clit throbbing untouched. Every tiny twitch of his cock inside you sent sparks through your core, teasing you higher without letting you fall, and the denial was a nightmare that had you whimpering brokenly, jerking your hips beneath him, chasing the movement he wouldn’t give.

Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, and your voice cracked on a pathetic, needy sob, “Please, please, don’t stop, Robby. You can’t— You can’t stop now.”

Being stuffed so full, so perfectly, and still denied that shattering release when it was right fucking there was driving you insane.

"You want to kill her with charcoal? Try again."

"Fuck! I was wrong, sorry—" You whined, bucking your hips desperately to chase the friction. "Keep going! please, fuck me, Robby, I need it—"

"You got it wrong, so I slowed down." He ground lazily, torturing you with shallow rolls, his tip nudging your cervix just enough to tease. "Correct it."

“Fuck… okay. Administration of N Acetyl cysteine.”

"Better." He rewarded you by thrusting hard again, savagely pumping his cock in and out of you,, pinching and rubbing your clit until you saw white.

"Robby—I'm—close—gonna cum—"

"One more: measles presentation. This one’s the last, I promise.”

"Rash… starts on face, spreads down like a crimson tide. Koplik spots in mouth, w-white lesions on red mucosa. Fever spiking, cough hacking, conjunctivitis making eyes weep, Oh! Fuck! I can’t keep going, please!"

"You did great." He groaned, pistoning his hips like a machine. "Cum. Now. Cum all over my cock—"

You shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a shockwave, your walls pulsing tight around his thick shaft, milking him as you arched your back off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat.

Robby followed seconds later, his control finally snapping as he buried himself impossibly deep inside you. His cock pulsed inside you, swelling even thicker for a heartbeat before he came undone, spilling hot and warm ropes of cum straight against your cervix in relentless pulses.

Each load of cum flooded you, filling every inch of your already overstuffed pussy until you could feel the pressure building, the obscene fullness of his release stretching you even further.

You both collapsed, panting. He kissed your forehead tenderly, a contrast to the filth you’d just indulged in. "You got most right. A few slips, but under pressure? Impressive. That brain of yours is a weapon."

You laughed breathlessly, the aftershocks of your climax still rippling through your core. "This was, by far, the best study method ever. Much better than your flashcards."

He pulled you close, his softening cock still nestled inside you. "We'll do it again tomorrow."

A/N: Hey! I hope you enjoyed this little idea I had. I know a lot of you liked the drabble where Robby was teaching reader anatomy while fucking her, so maybe some of you find the medical talk kind of hot. There’s just something insanely attractive about Robby when he’s performing complicated procedures or when it’s clear how much he knows. Competence is hot for me.

Also, I don’t actually understand half of this medical terminology, and I have no idea if everything is 100% accurate. To write it, I basically googled ABEM emergency medicine practice questions and went through a bunch of websites and PDFs with questions and answers, then borrowed from those. I’m trusting they’re correct, but if any health professionals are reading this… I’m sorry. It’s fiction, please be kind 😭

The restaurant had been fancier than you expected, candlelight that flickered across the table, and a guitarist in the corner playing something slow and romantic. Now the night felt heavier in the best way as the front door of your house clicked shut behind you both. Joel grazed his hand on the small of your back as you passed him on your way to the hallway, already guiding you towards the bedroom.

“Wait. I’m gonna change,” you said over your shoulder, already plotting tonight’s future events. “Don’t come in yet.”

He raised an eyebrow but only grunted something that might have been agreement. You heard the soft clink of him setting his keys on the kitchen counter, and the creak of the floorboards as he moved toward the living room. 

In the bedroom you shut the door and leaned against it for a second. The costume you’d ordered online had been stashed in the back of the closet for a week. Made out of a white gauzy fabric, with delicate straps, a pair of small feathered wings, and a golden headband with a tiny heart at the center. 

You stripped out of the dress you’d worn to dinner, and slipped into the outfit piece by piece. The material was soft against your thighs, barely-there, offering you very little coverage. You tugged the wings into place, adjusted the headband, and checked yourself once in the mirror propped against the wall. You looked ridiculously good, and you were certain Joel would lose your mind the second he laid his eyes on you.

You heard his footsteps in the hall, and seconds later the doorknob turned. Joel stepped inside and froze. For a long second he just stood there, one hand still on the knob, the other halfway to unbuttoning his shirt. He tracked his eyes from the headband down to the wings, over the barely-there fabric clinging to your hips, then back up to your face. His mouth opened, then closed, and then opened again.

“What… the hell are you doin’?”

You turned toward him slowly, tipping your head, letting your lips curve into a soft smile. “I’m one of Cupid’s angel,” you said, like you were reciting something. “And tonight, on Valentine’s Day, I’ve been sent to help lonely souls find their perfect match.”

Joel blinked, and then he exhaled through his nose, the sound somewhere between disbelief and the beginning of a laugh he was trying not to let out. “Darlin’, I think you made a mistake. I already got a partner.”

You stepped closer, the wings shifted slightly with the movement. You stopped just out of reach and looked up at him, letting your expression slide from playful to something more serious. “No,” you said quietly. “You don’t.”

He tilted his head, drawing his brows together. 

“You don’t have a partner, Mr. Miller,” you repeated, slower this time. “Not yet. That’s why I’m here. That’s why Cupid sent me.”

Joel studied you for a long beat. The room felt smaller, warmer, the candle throwing long shadows across his jaw. You watched the exact moment realization clicked behind his eyes—the way his gaze darkened, the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, like he’d decided to play along but only because he wanted to see how far you’d take it.

Joel dragged a hand down his face. When he dropped his hand again his eyes were darker. “Darlin’,” he said, “I just wanna have some sex and go to sleep. We can leave the little angel act for tomorrow.”

You tilted your head. “True love doesn’t wait, Mr. Miller. Now collaborate.”

“You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.”

He let out a long, slow breath through his nose, the sound of a man counting to ten in his head, and finally uncrossed his arms. “Fine,” he muttered. “Help me find a partner.”

You stepped closer, close enough that the hem of your costume brushed the front of his jeans. You reached up, grazing the open collar of his shirt with your fingertips, feeling the quick jump of his pulse under the skin.

“What,” you asked, dipping your voice into something almost musical, “do you find attractive in a partner?”

Joel flicked his eyes to your mouth, then back up. 

“I dunno,” he said. “I ain’t picky.”

The words landed like a slap, you ulled your hand back, and in one moment the playful curve of your lips flattened. “Oh, so you like everyone?”

His brows snapped together. “No. No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Mr. Miller?” You crossed your arms under your chest, the motion pushing the thin fabric tighter across your skin, your tits together. “Because it sounds like you’d settle for just about anybody with a pulse.”

Joel exhaled hard, trying to avoid making you even angrier by looking at your plump breasts under the costume. He rubbed the back of his neck, the way he did when he was trying not to lose his patience.

“I didn’t say that,” he bit out. “Christ. I just… look, I’m tired, I’m hard already, and you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that. Can we maybe skip to the part where—”

“Kindness,” you cut in. “Loyalty. What else?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You said you’re not picky. I’m trying to help you figure out what you actually want. So. I’m guessing you want someone who’s kind. Loyal too. What else?”

Joel stared at you like you’d grown a second head. He flexed his hands at his sides like he was fighting the urge to just grab you and end the conversation the fastest way he knew how.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he muttered.

“Answer the question.”

He dragged both hands through his hair. “Fine. Kind. Loyal. Someone who doesn’t flinch when shit gets ugly. Someone who’ll call me on my bullshit. Someone who laughs at my dumb jokes even when they ain’t funny.” He dropped his eyes to your mouth again. “Someone who looks at me like I’m worth somethin’. Even when I don’t feel like I am.”

The room went still, you let the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. “That’s a very specific list for a man who claims he’s ‘not picky,’” you said at last.

Joel’s laugh was short and humorless. “Yeah, well. Maybe I lied.”

“Well, don’t. If you lie I can’t help you find your perfect match. Now, next question,” you murmured, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “What’s your favorite kind of date?”

Joel let out an exasperated laugh that vibrated against your skin. “You’re really doin’ this.”

“I’m really doing this.”

He exhaled through his nose, as he traced absent circles over the sheer fabric at your waist, like he couldn’t quite help himself. “Fine, I like somewhere quiet where we can hear each other talk. Maybe a walk after dark. A small restaurant, somewhere private, where it’s just us.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Don’t call it sweet.”

“It’s sweet, Mr. Miller.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, almost. “You done?”

“Not even close.”

Before he could protest, you stepped back, just far enough to break his hold, then turned and nudged him gently backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. He sat without argument, more out of surprise than obedience, spreading legs instinctively to make room.

You didn’t hesitate, just climbed onto the bed between his thighs, your knees bracketing his hips, until the thin white fabric of your costume rode up as you settled your weight across his lap. 

He snapped his hands to your thighs on reflex, digging his fingers hard enough to leave faint marks through the gauze. 

You rested your forearms on his shoulders, threading loosely into the hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged it once in a playful gesture. “And in intimacy… what do you like?”

Joel tightened his grip on your waist, flexing his fingers like he was fighting every instinct to rip the flimsy costume off you right then and there. His thumbs slid higher, brushing the undersides of your breasts until they were resting just beneath the white fabric that had turned almost translucent in the dim bedroom light. The material was so thin it hid nothing, the peaks of your nipples stood out clearly, stiff and aching, begging for attention.

He wanted to rip the straps down, yank the whole damn thing to your waist, and bury his face in your tits. Wanted to squeeze them hard in his rough hands until you gasped, then suck one nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue, grazing his teeth just enough to make you feel the sting.

“Oh, you’re a filthy little angel,” he rasped, scraping the words out like they’d been waiting behind his teeth all night.

You gasped, pretending to be offended, and pressed a hand to your chest. “It’s a professional question, Mr. Miller. Intimacy is important to find a match. I need to know your preferences so I can… guide you.”

He barked a short, incredulous laugh. “Guide me.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine,” he growled. “I like a woman who’s confident. Who knows what she wants and ain’t afraid to take it. Who rides me slow when she feels like teasin’ me, and then hard when she’s done playin’. Who looks me in the eye the whole damn time like she’s darin’ me to break first. Who says filthy shit in that sweet voice of hers and then blushes about it later. Who lets me mark her up so everyone knows she’s mine.”

He paused, and you could see his chest rising and falling faster now. “Right now? Right now I’d like to fuck this pretty angel until she forgets her own damn name.”

The air between you felt thick, you could feel every thick inch of him straining against the denim of his jeans, the hard length of his cock throbbing insistently right where your cunt rested, separated only by thin layers of fabric that did nothing to hide how soaked you already were. You started rolling your hips in little circles, enough to drag your slick and swollen clit right over the fat head of him. The ridge caught against your clothed folds with every pass, sending sparks up your spine, but you kept the pressure light, to tease him with cruelty . Just enough friction to make his breath hitch, but not enough to let him rut up into you.

You leaned in until your lips were a heartbeat from his. “Mr. Miller,” you said scandalized, “you’re so unprofessional.”

He snorted. “I’m a messenger of God,” you continued, supresing a laugh. “A celestial being. Treat me with some respect.”

His laugh was low. Joel slid one hand up your back, catching the base of your wings, tugging just enough to make you arch.

“Respect,” he echoed with amusement. “That what you want, sweetheart? Respect while you’re sittin’ pretty in my lap, grindin’ on me like you’re tryin’ to see how long it takes before I snap?”

“I’m not grinding,” you said primly, even as you rolled your hips once just to watch his eyes flutter shut for a second.

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

You leaned closer, until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “I’m assessing compatibility. Very thoroughly. And I think I’ve found the perfect match for you, Mr. Miller.”

He snapped his eyes back to yours, impatient to put an end to this little game. “Who?” 

You smiled, angelic in the most sinful way possible, and let your fingers trail down the center of his chest, stopping just above the buckle of his belt.

“Me.”

Joel went still. For one long heartbeat the only sound in the room was the thud of his pulse under your palm.

Then the corner of his mouth curled. “That right?” 

“Mhm.” You tilted your head. “But Cupid’s angels don’t come cheap. You have to earn her.”

“Oh,” he laughed darkly, “I’m ’boutta earn ya.”

Before the last syllable left his mouth his hands were moving, he banded an arm around your waist, hooked the other under your thigh. In a single motion he flipped you. Your stomach hit the mattress with a soft bounce, your cheek pressed into the sheets, and you stretched your arms out instinctively, curling your fingers into the fabric.

Joel settled his weight over you from behind, being careful not to crush you, but he was still heavy enough to pin you in place. He nudged your thighs wider with his knees, shoving your legs apart. You felt the heat of him everywhere, his chest to your back, and his breath against the nape of your neck.

“Stay,” he growled in your ear. One big hand planted beside your head, while the other slid down your spine, until his palm flattened over the small of your back, pressing you deeper into the bed.

You arched just enough to test him, and he pressed harder. “Stay put, angel. Gonna earn every damn inch of you.”

Then he was moving lower, sliding his palms under your hips, lifting you just enough to angle you the way he wanted. The costume rode up completely now, bunched around your waist. 

Your bare cunt was exposed right in front of his eyes, swollen and raw, glistening with your lips puffy all the grinding. Your juices had soaked through everything, dripping slow down your inner thighs, leaving a slick trail.

Joel stared at it, hungry,. He brushed once over your clit, barely a touch, and your whole body jolted.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he gave it a sharp little slap, the wet smack echoed in the room, his fingers connecting perfectly with your shiny clit. The sting bloomed right away, making you buck your hips.

“She’s beggin’ f’some attention, ain’t she?” Another slap, harder this time, right across your folds. “She wants a big cock fillin’ her up, stretchin’ her wide?”

“Mmmph—” You cried out while your pussy clenched hard around nothing, fluttering visibly like it was trying to pull him in. “Please… please, Mr. Miller.”

He gave you one more slap, watching the way fresh slick welled up and dripped down toward your ass. 

“Gonna eat her first,” he growled, spreading your asscheeks wider. “Gonna fuck her with my tongue before she gets this cock.”

Joel licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, keeping his tongue flat and firm, like he was tasting something he’d been starving for. You gasped into the pillow, jerking involuntarily. He growled against you, and did it again, slower this time, savoring you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. “Pretty pussy tastes as good as it looks.”

Your fingers twisted tighter in the sheets. as he kept spreadingyou wider with his thumbs, opening you completely, then he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked it hard. 

He didn’t let up for a second. Joel flicked his tongue in fast little circles over your swollen clit, making your thighs quake around his ears. Then he dragged the whole rough plane of his tongue up through your folds in one long lap, collecting every drop of your slick like he was dying of thirst. He groaned deep against you, and did it again, flick, flick, flick, then another wide stripe that ended with him sucking your clit between his lips just hard enough to make your vision blur.

Joel moved one hand up your spine, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding you while he devoured you from behind. The other arm hooked under your hips, keeping you lifted exactly where he wanted you.

You tried to rock back against his face, but he pinned you harder.  “Be good,” he rasped between licks. “Let me work.”

The words sent heat flooding through you, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from whimpering too loud. 

He pulled back just long enough to speak. “Look’a cha. Spread out f’me like this. Drippin’ down my chin. Filthy fuckin’ angel.”

Then his mouth was back, hungrier now. He plunged his tongue inside you, curling and thrusting it inside your tight hole, fucking you with it while his nose nudged your clit on every pass. 

You were panting into the pillow, trembling, your fingers scrabbling at the sheets. “Joel— Joel, I’m so close, please, please… I need to cum.”

He hummed against you, and sucked your clit back into his mouth relentlessly. Your whole body locked up. The pleasure snapped, tearing a cry from your throat that you couldn’t muffle. You came hard, pulsing against his tongue, clamping your thighs around his head as wave after wave rolled through you.

He didn’t stop, instead, Joel worked you through your orgasm, slower now, with softer licks, coaxing every last tremor out of you until you were whimpering and oversensitive.

Only then did he pull back. You felt the mattress dip as he rose up behind you. Then, you heard the deliberate sound of his belt coming undone, and the rasp of his zipper.

His hand slid up your back again, gentle this time, brushing the crumpled feathers aside. He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Still think I gotta earn you?”

You turned your head just enough to catch his eye over your shoulder. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, beard completely drenched, covered in your juices.

You smiled, still trembling. “Keep going, Mr. Miller,” you whispered. “You’re doing beautifully.”

Joel’s breath was hot against the back of your neck, as he pressed himself closer. The blunt head of him nudged at your entrance, teasing you open even though you were still slick and fluttering from his mouth. You felt every inch as he started to push in. Joel was thick, taking him was always a big challenge. You felt his cock starting to stretch you wide until your breath hitched. 

“Fuck,” he groaned low. “So goddamn tight. Even after I ate you out like that.”

You whimpered into the pillow, tilting your hips up instinctively to take more. He didn’t let you rush it, Joel pressed his hand between your shoulder blades, pinning you flat again, while he sank in deeper, inch by torturous inch. The thick head of his cock parted your slick walls until the blunt pressure turned into a burning stretch that made your breath catch. He didn’t rush, lettting you feel every veined ridge dragging against your fluttering cunt, every pulse of him as he claimed more space inside you, until finally his hips pressed flush to the rounded curve of your ass and he was buried to the hilt, balls-deep and so full you swore you could feel him in your throat.

You could feel the way your own walls spasmed and rippled around him, involuntary squeezes that tried to drag him even deeper, like your body was begging for more even when there was nowhere left to go.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel rasped. “Feel that? That’s all you, angel. Takin’ me so fuckin’ deep.”

He rolled his hips once, testing, and the angle made you see stars. Whenever he fucked you in prone bone, he hit places you didn’t even know existed, the head of his cock dragging against that spongy spot inside you with every slow thrust. 

He started moving then with deliberate strokes that dragged every veined inch of him out until just the head remained notched inside you, stretching your entrance. The slow withdrawal made your walls flutter desperately around the sudden emptiness, trying to cling to him, before he pushed back in with the same patience, letting you feel the tip part your folds again.

The wet sound of it filled the roo, the slick glide of his cock through your cunt, the soft smack of skin meeting skin at the end of each thrust, the lewd squelch every time he bottomed out and your juices coated his shaft, dripping down to where you were joined. 

“You like that?” he murmured, brushing his hips against the shell of your ear. “Like bein’ stuffed full while I fuck you into the bed? Look’a cha takin’ this cock like it was made f’ya pussy. My pretty little angel takin’ it so good.”

You moaned, the sound muffled against the pillow. “Joel— Oh, yes! Like that! Don’t stop—”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped lower. “Tell me. Tell me how deep I am.”

“So deep,” you gasped. “So fucking deep—can feel you everywhere.”

He growled, and picked up the pace. No more slow, teasing drags. Now each thrust snapped forward with purpose, slamming his hips against the plush curve of your ass hard.

Joel clamped one hand onto your hip, locking you in place without escape, no room to squirm away from the relentless stretch and fill. He held you steady, angled just right so the head of his cock battered that sensitive spot inside you with every brutal plunge.

“That’s it,” he panted against your neck. “Take it. Take every fuckin’ inch. You were made for this, weren’t you? Made to get fucked like this, face down, ass up, screamin’ my name.”

Your hands scrabbled at the sheets until your knuckles ached. 

“Fuck—take it,” he snarled. “This pussy’s mine, fuckin’ greedy for this fat cock, clenchin’ like you’re tryin’ to milk me dry.”

He drove deeper, snapping forward in short and punishing strokes that made your thighs shake and your toes curl. Your slick was coating him so thoroughly it dripped down his balls with every thrust. His grip on your hip tightened further, yanking you back to meet every forward snap, burying himself to the hilt over and over until the pleasure blurred into something overwhelming.

“Joel—please—”

“Please what, sweetheart?” His beard scraped your shoulder as he leaned down.“Please fuck you harder? Please make you cum again?”

You couldn’t answer, could only moan, broken and needy, as he slammed in deeper. “Fuck, you’re clenchin’ so tight,” he groaned. “Gonna cum f’me again? Gonna soak my cock while I ruin this tight pussy?”

He began to hit your g-spot with every snap of his hips. The angle was merciless, making you clench down like you were trying to trap him there forever.

You couldn’t hold it back. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, your whole body locking up beneath him as you came crying his name. “Joel—Joel—fuck—Joel—” The words tore out of you in broken sobs, muffled into the pillow. Your cunt pulsed hard around his cock, spasming in rhythmic waves that milked him.

Joel swore under his breath and kept fucking you through it. “Goddamn. That’s it. That’s my girl. Fuck, look at you cummin’ so hard f’me.”

He didn’t slow down. If anything he went harder, chasing his own climax now. He tugged your head back just enough to make you arch.

“Gonna cum,” he warned, voice strained. “Where d’you want it, angel? Tell me.”

You barely managed the words out of your mouth. “On me—please! Paint me… mark me—”

He groaned like the request physically hurt him in the best way. “Fuck yes. Gonna get’cha all covered in me.”

A few more brutal thrusts was all it took, then Joel yanked himself free with a wet pop. The sudden emptiness made your cunt clench hard around nothing, fluttering desperately.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, still glistening with your arousal, the veins throbbing, the tip flushed dark and angry, and he stroked himself rough. You felt the first hot stripe land across your ass, splattering in a heavy rope that immediately started to slide down the cleft toward your still-twitching hole. Another followed right after, higher this time, painting a messy line up your lower back, sticky against your spine. Then another, and another, each pulse of him sending obscene ropes across your skin until you were streaked from the dimples above your ass all the way up to your shoulder blades.

He kept going until he was empty, groaning with every spurt, milking the last drops out until they dripped slowly onto the small of your back. 

He collapsed half over you, careful not to crush the wings, pressing his forehead between your shoulder blades. His hand smoothed over your hip, gentle now.

“Jesus, you’re a goddamn mess, darlin’.”

You laughed, breathless and shaky, turning your head just enough to catch his eye. “Worth it?”

“More than worth it.” He huffed a tired and satisfied laugh and pressed a slow kiss to the back of your neck.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, angel.”

You smiled into the pillow. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Mr. Miller.”

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!!🩷 I hope you all have a lovely day. Here’s my little gift for you, I really hope you enjoy it. I know a lot of you love the roleplaying fics, and @ess-evo suggested this idea for Valentine’s Day, so thank you so much!!

As always, your support means everything to me. I absolutely love reading your thoughts.

Robby couldn’t take full credit for the idea of getting you a sex toy for Valentine’s day.

It had started at the pitt, of all places. He was walking toward the nurses’ station to do a quick chart update, his body moving while his mind was miles away. Valentine’s day was three days away. Three days, and he still had nothing.

For the past week, his thoughts had been stuck in the same frustrating loop. Every idea he came up with felt either lazy or predictable. He didn’t want to show up with a last-minute bouquet and a box of chocolates he’d grabbed from the corner store. That wasn’t you. And it wasn’t the kind of effort he wanted to give.

The problem was, you made it difficult in the most infuriating way possible, you had everything. Or, worse, if you wanted something, you didn’t hesitate to get it yourself. Last year, he’d been so sure he’d nailed it. Weeks earlier, you’d mentioned that you loved a designer purse. It wasn’t even a request, just a comment, and Robby had tracked it down, paid more than he probably should have, and spent days feeling smug about how thoughtful he was being. Then he’d come home early one evening and found you in the kitchen, with that exact same purse hanging from your shoulder. “I work so hard,” you’d said with a shrug and a smile when you noticed his expression. “I decided to treat myself and get it.”

He found Dana perched on a stool, typing on the computer while munching on a granola bar. "Robby," she, glancing up with a mischievous grin. "You look like shit. Valentine’s coming up, right? What're you getting Mrs. Robinavitch? You better treat my girl the way she deserves."

Mrs. Robinavitch. Well, technically you weren’t. Not yet, at least. There were no wedding plans on the horizon, no proposal tucked away in a drawer waiting for the right moment. Neither of you was in any rush. What you had worked as it was. Still, in the ED, everyone called you that anyway.

They knew you far too well not to. You’d rushed in more times than you could count to deliver something Robby had inevitably forgotten at home, his phone, his ID badge, his wallet. And every time, you were met with smiles, teasing comments, and someone inevitably calling out his name just loud enough to embarrass him.

They loved you there. Loved the way you remembered people. Loved the cookies you baked and dropped off on special occasions like National Doctors’ Day or Public Health Thank You Day, any excuse, really. You never showed up empty-handed, and you never stayed long enough to be in the way. Just long enough to make the place feel a little lighter.

Robby rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against the counter and picking up some files. "Yeah, three days. I’ve got no clue."

Dana laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Robby. Don’t be a cheap ass. Get her some jewelry, something nice. Diamonds.”

Robby didn’t even look up from the files, turning the pages without paying much attention to the chatter. “Diamonds? Oh-ho-ho, that woman already maxes out my credit card like it’s her hobby,” he said dryly. “She has more stuff in her closet than it can physically hold.”

Perlah, who was organizing supplies a few feet away, immediately chimed in. “Yeah,” she said, not even glancing up. “You could give her a diamond ring. It’d be about time.”

Princess appeared at his side a second later, leaning against the counter like she’d been waiting for her cue. “Better do it now, before your back’s too screwed for you to get down on one knee.”

Robby finally glanced up, unimpressed but faintly amused. “I’m really touched by the collective interest in my relationship, ladies,” he said. “But there won’t be any ring for now.”

All three nurses booed in dramatic unison.

“Yeah, yeah,” Robby went on, smirking. “Cry it out. I’m sorry, I know all of you are just hoping for the catering and the open bar.”

Behind him, Princess and Perlah immediately launched into a rapid exchange in Tagalog. Robby didn’t understand a single word of it, but he didn’t need to. The tone alone told him everything he needed to know. He was fairly certain idiot and asshole made an appearance somewhere in there.

“I know what your girl needs.” Cassie’s voice cut in as she approached the desk. She’d clearly been listening to the entire conversation.

Robby glanced up. “Should I be concerned?”

“Probably,” she said lightly. “You’ve been working almost fifteen-hour shifts. That poor woman needs something practical. Ever heard of a Satisfyer?” The reaction was immediate. Eyebrows shot up across the nurses’ station. Cassie lifted her hands defensively. “What? Too much?” She looked around at their faces and scoffed. “Please. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been single for a long time.”

“I’m just saying,” Cassie continued, completely unfazed. “A Satisfyer? A Womanizer? Air-pulse toys?”

Princess’s eyes lit up with amusement. "Oh my God, you're terrible. But... she's not wrong. If your girl's dealing with your crazy hours, Robby, it might be just what she needs."

Dana looked up from her screen, pushing her glasses back. "I’ve heard they work wonders.”

“Trust me, after a long shift here, it's a lifesaver. Your girlfriend would thank you. Or, you know, thank it." Princesses winked. “But don’t get her the cheap rose one. Buy her an expensive one, don’t be a cheapskate.”

Robby stared at them, his mouth agape, but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes now. He wasn’t prudish, far from it, but this caught him off guard. "You are serious? All of you?"

Dana shrugged, utterly unfazed. “Dead serious. It’s 2026, Robby. Women have needs.” She tilted her head at him. “Stop with the macho act. What, you scared a little toy’s gonna replace you and she’ll dump your sorry ass?”

“Fragile ego much?” Princess crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him. “How many times do you get home and she’s already asleep? Or how many nights are you so exhausted you do nothing but collapse into bed?”

Robby shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “I will not be discussing my sex life in a packed emergency department, thank you very much.” He straightened. “I’ll just get her some new shoes or something.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the ambulance bay doors flew open. Robby was on his feet instantly. “Thirty-four-year-old woman,” one of the paramedics called out as they rushed in. “Gunshot wound to the left upper abdomen. Entry only, no exit wound noted. BP ninety over sixty, heart rate one-twenty.”

Robby was already moving, stepping in to assess the patient. But even as he worked, he could still hear them behind him.

“Think about it, Robby.” “Listen to us women.” “Make your girl happy.”

It was close to nine by the time Robby finally got home. You had disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower. Robby kicked off his shoes, shed his jacket, and collapsed onto the couch with a tired sigh. The TV was already on, some true-crime documentary you were watching before played softly in the background. He opened his laptop and stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then, after a brief hesitation, he typed Womanizer sex toy into the search bar. The official site was the first result. He clicked it before he could second-guess himself.

The Perfect Gift this Valentine’s, the banner read. Robby huffed quietly, rubbing a hand over his face, but he kept scrolling. Product descriptions blurred together as he read: extra stimulation head. Fourteen intensity levels. Pulsating air pressure designed to mimic natural suction.

He read the reviews next. Women and husbands alike, raving with alarming enthusiasm. Words like leg-shaking, out of this world, life-changing. Some talked about edging for hours, others about finishing in seconds. Robby leaned back into the couch, scanning the seemingly endless options. How different could clit suckers really be? Apparently… very.

After another minute of overthinking, he added the most expensive one to the cart, the one with the best reviews. He chose it in pink without hesitation, already knowing you’d love the color.

As he typed in his card information, a strange mix of nerves and excitement settled in his chest.

What if you thought it was a terrible gift? You two had never really used toys in bed before, never been into anything too experimental. He paused as the doubt creeped in. But then he remembered the ED, Dana’s certainty, Cassie’s confidence. Women who knew what they were talking about. So he exhaled and clicked purchase. A confirmation email appeared in his inbox seconds later.

Three days later, Robby had gone all out for Valentine’s day. A massive bouquet of flowers had been delivered first thing in the morning, so big it barely fit through the door. Breakfast in bed followed before he had to leave for work. Even then, he’d managed to pull off something rare: leaving work early. Early enough to take you to that new rooftop restaurant you’d been talking about nonstop for the past month.

Dinner was everything you’d hoped for. The food was incredible, and the view stole your breath. And Robby… Robby looked unfairly good with that dark button-up shirt you loved so much because it fit him perfectly, with the sleeves rolled just enough to make you restless. You’d already decided you couldn’t wait to get him home and take it off him yourself.

By the time you were sharing the chocolate soufflé, the wine had fully kicked in. The conversation softened, and the touches lingered just a second longer than necessary. You shifted in your seat, growing impatient because Valentine’s day meant sex.

A long night. No interruptions. Just you and him, alone at last.

Back at your place, you kicked off your heels by the door, and he shrugged out of his coat, hanging it carefully like he did everything. The gifts waited at the coffee table, it was tradition to open them at the end of the night.

"You first," you said, nudging him toward the couch.

He sat, pulling you down beside him. You handed him the smaller package first. He tore the paper with the enthusiasm of a kid, revealing the white box.

“AirPods,” he read aloud, lifting an eyebrow. “The Pros?” Just the week before, an unfortunate incident had claimed his old pair, forgotten in the back pocket of his scrubs, tossed into the washing machine, and declared officially dead. Robby looked up at you, clearly pleased, turning the box over in his hands. “You didn’t have to do this,” he said, though the small smile tugging at his mouth said he very much appreciated it.

"Figured you'd need replacements before you kept complaining about having to listen to the sounds of traffic instead of your podcast on the way to work."

He gave you a genuine laugh, opening the case to see the charging light blink on. "Baby... thank you. These are perfect." He leaned in, kissing you slowly, still tasting the chocolate from before.

Then, Robby opened the bigger one, a hardcover of the philosophy book about Socrates he'd mentioned wanting months ago. "And this," you added, "because you deserve something that's not a chart or a consult note."

He flipped through the pages, thumbing the edges slowly. A soft laugh escaped him as he looked up at you. “You remembered,” he said quietly. “God, I love you so much.”

Then it was your turn. Robby reached for the box, hesitating for just a beat before handing it over to you, a nervous breath leaving him as he did.

"Okay," he started, rubbing the back of his neck like he did every time he was nervous or stressed. "Before you open it... I know it's silly. Dana, and Princess, and McKay kind of brainwashed me at the nurses' station the other day. All of them were joking, mostly, talking about how great these things are. I figured... With my shifts, the long hours... Maybe it was a good idea. But if you don’t want it, we can return it."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity had piqued dramatically. You peeled back the paper carefully. And inside was a box that read: “Womanizer Next, 3D Pleasure Air Stimulator with Climax Control.” The gadget, the clit sucker, was in deep pink, slightly curvy, lighter than you’d imagined it. You couldn’t help it, you giggled a little, the sound bubbling up. "Oh my God, Robby."

He winced. "See? Told you. McKay’s fault. She said you probably need it with me being gone all the time, and the others backed her. I read it’s waterproof, so I thought maybe you could use it in the tub, or something. But yeah. If it's dumb—"

"It's not dumb," you interrupted him, still laughing softly as you set the box aside and crawled into his lap, straddling him. He settled his hands on your hips automatically, steadying you. "It's actually... Very useful.."

He searched your face, his tension finally easing. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You leaned in, kissing him slowly, threading your fingers through his hair. "Think I’m gonna put it to use while you’re busy at the pitt."

He exhaled against your lips. "Good. Because I hate leaving you hanging. You better put it to use on a… solo mission."

“Solo mission,” your giggles turned into something softer. "I like that plan."

He kissed you again, deeper this time, sliding his hands up your back. “But you have to promise me you’ll be thinking of me when you do.”

This evening, you stir in bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, the faint scent of Robby’s cologne still lingering on the pillow. And you have a deep and persistent ache between your legs that's been building since morning.

You've been horny all day. It started innocently enough, with a dream about him last night, his hands pinning you down, pressing between your shoulder blades as he pounded into you relentlessly. You woke up wet, feeling your pussy throbbing, but Robby was already gone, and you had a busy day ahead.

You tried to shake it off during your meetings, crossing your legs under the desk, but every shift in your chair sent sparks through you. And as the day progressed, the need became impossible to ignore. Your mind kept drifting to the nightstand drawer, to the pink toy he'd gifted you.

Now, as the clock ticks toward 7 p.m, you give in. You propped yourself against the headboard with pillows, quickly shimming out of your pants and underwear. The toy is cool in your hand when you retrieve it. You've got time, he won’t be home until at least 8 p.m., and waiting until he gets home to get some relief feels impossible. You need to take care of yourself right now.

You switch the toy on, the soft hum vibrates through your palm as you cycle through the intensities. Starting low, with just a gentle pulse. You part your thighs, and the cool air kisses your exposed skin. You press the head against your clit, and the first contact sends a jolt through you. The suction feels unique, it’s not Robby’s mouth, it doesn’t feel like his warm tongue flicking over your clit, like his wet lips nibbling over it as he devours you. But it still feels so good, like a thousand tiny kisses building pressure.

You flutter your eyes closed, tipping your head back against the pillows. "Mmm," you murmur to the empty room, imagining Robby's voice in your ear, murmuring those filthy words you love hearing. “You’re doing so good, baby.” “Just let go for me.” “Look at how wet this pussy is.”

The sensation builds slowly at first, with lazy waves of pleasure pulsing from your soaked cunt outward. You twist the dial higher, and the vibrations slam into you instantly, matching the exact filthy rhythm Robby uses when he’s greedy for it, with sloppy flicks of his tongue followed by long and hungry drags. Your free hand wanders greedily, shoving under your shirt to palm your tit, pinching and rolling the stiff peak of your nipple between your thumb and forefinger until it’s swollen and aching. The heat explodes through you. You’ve been teasing your dripping pussy with dirty thoughts all fucking day, and now you’re finally letting it ruin you.

You start grinding your hips in slow, nasty circles against the buzzing toy as your arousal coats it. Memories crash over you: Robby pinning your thighs wide and high, his veins standing out on his forearms as he stares down at the obscene way your tits bounce and slap together with every brutal thrust. His voice coming out wrecked: “Goddamn, you look gorgeous like this.” You picture his dark brown hair between your spread legs while he devours you, his beard completely drenched and shining with your juices, and his lips glossy. as he pulls back just enough to smirk up at you with that smug look, “Fuck, your pussy tastes so good. I could live with my face buried between your thighs.”

You’re completely lost in it now, the room is blurring out until nothing exists except the obscene throb between your legs. The pulses drill deeper, your soaked cunt is making wet noises as your arousal drips down the slick pink silicone. You crank the setting higher, way higher, and the air-pulsing waves slam directly against your swollen clit, each one like a dirty little tongue flicking you exactly how Robby does when he’s starving for it. A broken moan spills out of you, “Robby…”

You twist your nipple harder between your fingers, almost cruelly, the sting shooting straight to your pulsing core while you buck your hips faster, grinding your pussy against the toy in frantic circles.

Unbeknownst to you, the front door clicks open quietly downstairs. Robby takes off his shoes in the entryway. "Baby?" he calls your name softly, but there’s no answer. Maybe you're already asleep.

He ascends the stairs, drawn by a faint sound… a hum? A gasp? A moan? The bedroom door is ajar, and pushes it open a crack, intending to surprise you, but freeze at the sight.

There you are, on the bed, with the sheets rumpled, and your body arched in pleasure.

The Womanizer, his gift, is nestled between your thighs, as your hand guides it with ease. Your shirt had ridden up, exposing the curve of your plump breasts, as one of your hands teases a nipple.

Your face is a picture of ecstasy, your lips parted, your eyes squeezed shut, your brows furrowed like you can’t handle so much pleasure. Soft moans punctuate the air, and your hips undulate in a mesmerizing rhythm. He watches, transfixed, as heat pools in his gut.

God, you're beautiful like this, so unaware, completely uninhibited. He's seen you cum many times, but this, solo, lost in your own world… It's intoxicating.

Robby feels his cock twitch and thicken in his pants the second he sees you, swelling hard until the fabric is stretched tight over the fat outline of his erection. He braces one shoulder against the doorframe, staying dead quiet so you won’t notice him yet. The way your gorgeous body writhes, rolling your hips like your soaked cunt can’t get enough of that toy, those soft little whimpers spilling from your lips… it’s fucking destroying him.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, palming his throbbing dick through the scrub pants to try and relieve the aching pressure. It’s been days since he’s buried himself inside you, long shifts, bone-deep exhaustion, stolen kisses that never went anywhere. But now, seeing you spread out and shameless, grinding on the pink vibrator he bought you, slicking it with your own dripping arousal… it makes heat coils tight in his gut.

‘That’s my girl,’ he thinks, locking his eyes on the obscene way your pussy lips cling to the toy with every roll of your hips. ‘Using the gift I gave her. Getting herself off because of me.’

Minutes stretch, he doesn't know how long he stands there, but it's long enough to memorize every detail. The sheen of sweat on your collarbone, the way your thighs tremble, the increasing urgency in your movements. You're close, he can tell by the hitch in your breath, the way you arch your back off the bed. His own need throbs, straining against his pants as beads of pre-cum dampen the fabric. He could touch himself, but no, he wants to savor this, the voyeuristic thrill. Your moans grow louder, more desperate. "Oh God, yes..." and he has to bite his lip to stay quiet. “Yes, Robby… please, Robby!”

Hearing his name leave your mouth in the shape of a moan pushes him to the edge. His voice comes out low, full of desire: "Don't stop on my account, baby."

You snap your eyes open, a gasp tearing from your throat, it’s half-surprise, and half-climax as the orgasm crashes over you anyway. The toy's pulses tip you over, the waves of pleasure rippling through your core. Your muscles clench, and you curl your toes tight. The orgasm makes you shudder, crying out his name, "Robby!" as the release floods you, leaving you trembling in its wake.

He's across the room in seconds, the door swinging shut behind him. His pants are tented obviously, you notice his evident erection, and the wet patch from how much pre-cum he’s been leaking.

"Fuck, that was hot," he growls, climbing onto the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. He hovers over you, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

His hand replaces yours on the toy, still buzzing softly, pressing it gently against your oversensitive clit to draw out aftershocks.

You whimper into his mouth, jerking. "How long were you watching?" you manage to say, breathless, tugging at his shirt.

"Long enough," he admits, nipping at your jaw. "Couldn't help it. You looked... incredible." He grinds against your thigh, letting you feel his hardness. "See what you do to me?"

You reach down, palming him through the fabric, earning a groan from his mouth. "All day," you confess. "Been thinking about you all day."

He chuckles, stripping off his scrub top to reveal the soft planes of his chest. "Good. Maybe I can join you on your… solo mission." He turns off the toy, setting it aside, but his fingers take over, sliding through your wetness, circling your clit with expert precision. "Tell me what you were thinking about. I want the details."

You arch into his touch, the words spilling out between gasps. “You… between my thighs, eating me out. Fucking me deep.. grunting like you always do when you’re about to cum inside me.”

“That's my girl," he slides two fingers inside you, burying them deep, curling them just right. He shifts his weight, using one knee to nudge your legs wider apart.“Fuck, you’re soaked. All this just from thinking about me?”

You nod, breathless. “Couldn’t—couldn’t stop. I was so horny… I wanted you here.”

He drags his fingers out of your dripping cunt with a loud squelch that has you both groaning. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the toy left abandoned on the sheets. He flicks his thumb over the power button once, setting it to the lowest. Then he presses it down right over your swollen, perky clit, watching the way your hips jerk violently as the gentle thrum latches onto your oversensitive nub.

Your whole body arches off the mattress like you’ve been electrocuted. “Robby—!”

“Shh,” he soothes, though there’s nothing gentle in the way his free hand pins your hip to the bed. “Can you take it, baby? You were taking it so beautifully when I walked in.”

The air-pulse is merciless even on the lowest setting, your oversensitive nerves scream in the best way possible… It’s almost too much, the pleasure is so sharp it borders on pain. You try to snap your thighs closed instinctively, but Robby wedges his hips between them, keeping you spread.

He keeps his eyes locked on your face the whole time, watching the way you fall apart under him. Then, with one hand, he unzips his pants, yanking them down just enough to free his cock. The tip is so red it looks almost angry, like the skin is stretched too tight, aching with the pressure of holding back. A single bead of translucent pre-cum wells at the slit, spilling over and sliding down the underside of the shaft, until it disappears into the coarse mat of dark hair at the base.

He wraps his hand around himself, and give himself one long stroke from the flushed head all the way down to the root, dragging that slick bead along his length until it soaks into the curls that cradle his heavy balls.

Robby lines himself up, gripping the thick base of his member and dragging the blunt head through your folds, coating himself in your creamy mess

He doesn’t slam in, not yet. Instead, he rocks forward in torturous little grinds, just the fat tip breaching your tight entrance, stretching that fluttering ring of muscle wide around him before pulling back out with an obscene pop. Each shallow tease has your cunt clenching greedily around nothing, trying to suck him deeper, while the Womanizer hums against your clit in perfect sync with every roll of his hips, driving you insane with the double torment of almost being filled and never quite getting it.

You’re babbling now, a bunch of incoherent little pleas. “Please—please, Robby, deeper—need you—please.”

Hearing you beg is enough for him to give you what you ask for.

It takes one long and relentless slide for him to be buried to the hilt inside you. The stretch exquisite, filling every aching inch of you. You cry out, digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders.

He holds himself there for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt, letting you feel every throbbing inch stretching your soaked cunt wide. Your walls flutter and clench greedily around him like they’re trying to milk him dry.. Then he starts to move with deep strokes at first, dragging his cock almost all the way out until just the head catches at your entrance, making your pussy gape and drip, before slamming back in with a slap that echoes in the room.

He rolls his hips in that slow rhythm he knows ruins you every time, grinding the ridged head of his dick right over your front wall on every pass, hammering that spongy spot until your vision whites out and stars explode behind your eyes. Each thrust forces a fresh gush of your arousal to coat his shaft, dripping down his balls as he fucks you open, owning every inch of you.

The toy stays glued to your clit the entire time, and you’re drowning in sensation. You can hear the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the mattress, his ragged breathing against your neck, and he relentless suction on your clit, now climbing to the second intensity level without you even noticing he’d adjusted it.

“Goddamn, listen to you,” he growls. “So fucking wet. You like how it sucks on your clit, huh? Like me fucking you while it works you?”

You can only whine in response, thrashing your head on the pillow. All that exists is the building pressure, the tingling heat in your lower belly, the way every nerve ending feels lit up and screaming.

He shifts his hips, hooking one of your thighs high over the crook of his elbow, spreading you wide open. The new angle lets him sink even deeper. You dig your heel into the small of his back, right above the firm curve of his ass, and shove him forward with desperate force, trying to force every thick inch deeper until he’s splitting you in half.

Robby lets out a low growl as your greedy push drives him balls-deep, and your slick walls clamping down like they’re never letting him go. “Fuck, that’s it,” he rasps, “pull me in, baby… Take it all”

Your second orgasm builds fast, dangerously fast. “R-robby—I’m—fuck, I’m g-gonna—”

“Do it,” he orders, snapping his hips forward with bruising force. “Cum around me. Let me feel it.”

The command tips you over. You shatter violently, bowing your back, your thighs shaking uncontrollably, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your walls clamp down around him in rhythmic spasms. The toy doesn’t let up, the vibrations drag the climax out impossibly long, turning one peak into rolling aftershocks that leave you sobbing with pleasure.

Your slick gushes out around his cock, dripping in thick rivulets down the crack of your ass to puddle on the sheets beneath you. He stares down between your spread thighs, mesmerized by the sight: your tight little hole stretched and flushed around his girth, clinging desperately to every veined inch as he pulls out, then plunges back in deep. Each thrust leaves creamy white rings of your arousal smeared along his shaft.

“Jesus, look at that mess,” he keeps his eyes locked on the way your pussy lips grip him. Hs rhythm is faltering for the first time. “Fuck—that’s it, baby—fuck—”

He drops the toy onto the bed, and it keeps buzzing uselessly against the mattress. Robby grips both your hips with bruising force. The gentleness is gone, now it’s pure need, fast thrusts that punch the air out of your lungs, chasing his own release inside the still-pulsing grip of your body.

You’re oversensitive, almost crying from how good it feels, how too much it is. Your scrabble your hands on his back until your nails leave red lines.

He buries his face in your neck, grazing his teeth over your pulse point. “Gonna cum—fuck! I’m cumming, baby.”

“I-inside—please—fuck, I want it inside—” you beg, clawing at his back as you plead for him to flood your pussy with every drop. “Robby—fill me up, please—”

Three more brutal thrusts, deep enough to bruise your cervix, and he slams one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he cums. His hips jerk and stutter uncontrollably while he unloads inside you with thick and hot ropes of cum erupting in endless pulses, painting your walls, flooding your womb until you can feel the warmth. Every twitch of his cock, every fat spurt, sends shivers through your overstimulated body as he pumps you full.

For long moments, neither of you moves. All you can hear are your ragged breaths combined and the faint, continued hum of the forgotten toy somewhere on the bed.

His cock finally starts to soften inside you, it gives your stretched cunt just enough room to let his load begin leaking out. Pearly ropes of his cum slowly ooze from your used and puffy pussy, sliding in trails down your slick folds, dripping in globs that coat his balls, matting the dark hair there with white.

Eventually, he eases out, carefully, both of you hissing at the loss. Robby collapses half on top of you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck, scratching it with his beard. His hand finds yours, and he laces your fingers together.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters after a while. “I think you killed me.”

You laugh weakly, still trembling. “You started it with your little voyeuristic act.”

He huffs a tired laugh against your skin. “Not my fault if you look like that when you're having some alone time,” he presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Remind me to thank McKay,” he mumbles, already half-asleep, one arm slung across your waist.

You smile into his hair, your body still humming, full of him, marked by him. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Think she deserves some freshly baked cookies.”

A/N: Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed this little Valentine’s gift from me to you🩷

I was so excited to write this one because I’ve been stuck on the idea of Robby watching his s/o touch herself while he watches… it’s been living in my head rent-free👀 By the way, this is the toy Robby got the reader in the fic, hehe. I’d love to have a Womanizer, I’ve heard they’re way better than the Satisfyer. Maybe someone who works there is reading this and wants to give me a deal for the free publicity, lol.

Alfie’s Valentine

It was February 11th, 1924, three days before Valentine’s Day, and you sat on the edge of the armchair, with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, watching your husband. Alfie lounged in his favourite leather chair, with a glass of whiskey balanced on one knee.

You’d been working up to this conversation all evening. Valentine’s Day had always been a silly, secret fancy of yours, even before you married him. As a girl, you’d dreamed of red roses and chocolates. Now, as Mrs Solomons, you wanted just a taste of that whimsy.

“Alfie,” you began, carrying the pleading note you knew he pretended to despise. “Love, have you thought about what we might do for Valentine’s Day? It’s only a few days away.”

He didn’t look up from the newspaper spread across his lap. “Valentine’s Day?” he rumbled. “What’s that got to do with us, then?”

You leaned forward, placing your elbows on your knees. “Come on, Alfie. We could make a night of it. Dinner out, perhaps? Or I could cook something special here. Maybe even a little gift exchange. It doesn’t have to be grand… Just something to mark the day.”

He folded the paper and set it aside on the side table. His eyes finally met yours, and you could see the amusement flickering in them. “A gift exchange? For Valentine’s Day? Nah, nah, pet. That ain’t our style, is it?”

“But why not?” you pressed, sliding closer until your knee brushed his leg. “It’s just one day. A bit of fun. I saw these lovely chocolates in the window of that new shop down the avenue, they were shaped like hearts! Or flowers. Roses, Alfie. You know I love roses.”

He took a long sip of his drink, as if he needed the alcohol to go through this conversation. “Roses, yeah? And what, a card with some soppy verse? ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I run a bleedin’ distillery and so do you’?”

You reached out and laid your hand on his arm, feeling the wool of his vest beneath your fingers. “It’s not about the soppiness. It’s about celebrating us. You and me, against the world, remember when you used to say that?”

Alfie set his glass down with a clink and leaned back, putting deliberate space between your enthusiasm and his reluctance. “Celebratin’ us? Right. Well, I celebrate us every bloody day, don’t I? Wakin’ up next to you, sharin’ a meal, shaggin’ you every night, that’s celebration enough for any man. Don’t need some frivolous holiday cooked up by the Christians to tell me when to show my love.”

There it was, you knew it was coming… the moment he made this about religion. “I know it’s a Christian thing,” you said quietly, squeezing his arm. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, Alfie. But this… this is just a day for lovers. It doesn’t have to be religious. It could be ours. Something we make our own.”

He raised one brow, piercing you with his gaze. “Ours, eh? Nah, love. Valentine’s Day is a con, innit? Shopkeepers rubbin’ their hands, sellin’ overpriced tat to fools who think a box of sweets proves their love.”

“But it means something to me,” you said, raising your voice just enough to betray the frustration. You stood and began to pace in front of the fire, trying to burn off the ache building inside your chest. “Not the con part, maybe, but the gesture. The thought that you’d go out of your way just for me. Because you love me. Isn’t that what marriage is? Doing things that don’t make sense to you, but make the other person happy?”

Alfie watched you move, his expression softening for the briefest moment before it hardened again. “Love you? Course I do. More than life itself, yeah? But I show it my way. Remember that necklace last month? The sapphire one? That wasn’t for no holiday, that was ’cause I saw it and thought of your eyes. Or when I closed the bakery early to take you to the seaside? That’s love, pet. Real love. Not this manufactured bollocks.”

You stopped pacing and knelt in front of him, taking both his rough hands in yours. “I remember all of it, Alfie. And I cherish every moment. But why can’t we have both? The everyday love and the special days? I’m not asking for the moon. Just one evening. A candlelit dinner, maybe a card.”

He sighed and brushed his thumbs over your knuckles. “You’re a persistent one, ain’t ya? Always have been. That’s why I married you, keeps me on my toes.” He paused, searching for your eyes. “But no, love. I can’t do it. Not Valentine’s Day. It’s not just frivolous, it’s… It’s not us. I don’t need a calendar tellin’ me when to be romantic. And frankly, I ain’t bowin’ to some saint’s day that ain’t mine. If I start now, where’s it end? Easter eggs next? Bloody Christmas?”

The words landed like stones. You felt the disappointment, yet you understood. Alfie didn’t bend on principles, and maybe asking him to celebrate a holiday that clashed with who he was felt like asking him to be someone else.

“Alfie, please,” you whispered, your voice cracking even as you tried to keep it steady. “For me. Just because you love me. It would mean the world.”

He lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your fingers. His beard tickled your skin in that familiar way. For one heartbeat, you thought he might give in, but then he shook his head. “No, pet. I love you too much to pretend. We’ll make our own days, yeah? Better ones.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and stood. Valentine’s Day would come and go without fanfare in the Solomons house.

The morning of February 14th arrived quickly. You woke up that morning, and for a moment you lay still, staring at the ceiling, expecting the day to pass like any other. No roses. No chocolates. No soppy gestures.

Then the door creaked, you turned your head, and there he was. Alfie was balancing a wooden tray as if it might fall if he moved too fast. Two slices of bread toasted unevenly, a smear of butter already melting into the craters, a couple of fried eggs, and a mug of tea.

He stood at the foot of the bed in his vest and braces, with his sleeves rolled to the elbows, looking like a man who’d just lost a very personal war.

“Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

You sat up so fast the blankets pooled around your waist. “You changed your mind.”

He didn’t answer right away, just set the tray across your lap with exaggerated care. Then he straightened, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared down at you, not angry, exactly, but with the exasperation that only came out when he’d done something he swore he never would.

“I have an infuriatin’, stubborn wife,” he said, each word bitten off. “Who happens to be so bloody good at gettin’ under my skin that I wake up at five like some lovesick fool and stand over a stove burnin’ eggs because apparently that’s what it takes to shut her up for five minutes.”

Your mouth parted, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Alfie—”

“Don’t,” he warned, pointing one finger at you. “Don’t start with the eyes and the smile. I’m already regrettin’ every second of this.”

But he wasn’t done, he turned, reached behind him to the dresser where he’d clearly hidden everything, and came back with three things: First, a small bunch of red roses, six of them, the stems wrapped in brown paper. Second, a flat red box tied with gold ribbon, inside there were the heart-shaped chocolates you’d pointed out in the window two weeks ago. And third, a card. You opened it with trembling fingers.

To my wife,

who is maddening, beautiful, relentless, and somehow still the only person I’d ever do this for.

Don’t get used to it.

Happy Valentine’s Day, pet.

— Alfie

You looked up at him with stinging eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders like he wanted to disappear into the floorboards.

“Here’s all you wanted,” he muttered. “The fuckin’ roses. The chocolates. The card with the soppy words. Happy now?”

You didn’t answer with words, you set the tray carefully on the bedside table and then launched yourself at him. He caught you with a grunt and a half-laugh, as you wrapped arms and legs around him like you meant to climb inside his skin. Alfie carried you both back onto the mattress, making the bed groan under the sudden weight.

He landed on his back with you straddling his hips, your nightgown rucked up around your thighs, and he took his big hands automatically to your waist.

“You bastard,” you whispered against his mouth, crying as you laughed. “You absolute, beautiful bastard.”

“Language,” he rumbled, but his voice had gone rough in that way that always made you clench your thighs. “Thought we were bein’ romantic.”

You kissed him then, greedily, and Alfie kissed you back like a man who’d been starving for it, sliding one band up your spine to fist in your hair, clamping the other possessively over your ass.

You broke away just long enough to yank his vest over his head. The braces snapped against his shoulders as you shoved them down. His chest hair was coarse under your palms. You dragged your nails lightly down it, watching the way his stomach flexed.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed when you rocked your hips down against the growing hardness beneath his trousers. “Slow down, woman, or this’ll be over before it starts.”

“No,” you said, already fumbling with his buttons. “I’m not waiting. Gonna give you your gift right now.”

You freed his thick cock, already leaking at the tip and making your mouth water at the sight. Next thing, you shoved your nightgown higher and moved your underwear to the side. With trembling hands, you lined him up and sank in one slow slide, the stretch making you both groan.

Alfie’s head fell back against the pillow. “Christ almighty.”

You braced your hands on his broad chest, lifting yourself until only the swollen head of his cock stretched your entrance, before sinking back down in one long glide. You savoured every inch of him, dragging along your slick walls, the way he throbbed inside your cunt, pulsing against that spot that made your thighs tremble.

Alfie’s breath hitched, a low “fuck” rumbling from his chest as he jerked his hips up involuntarily, chasing more friction from your tight walls. Emboldened, you picked up the pace, moving faster and harder, slamming down with rolls of your hips that ground your clit against his pelvis on every thrust.

He roamed his hands possessively, squeezing your breasts, flicking his thumbs over your stiff nipples until you whimpered, then sliding down to grip your waist, your hips, finally clamping onto your ass with force. He spread you open wider, digging his fingers into the flesh as he guided you, urging you to fuck him deeper, like he couldn’t get enough of the way your cunt clenched around him.

He thrust up brutally to meet every downward slam, driving himself impossibly deeper. His heavy balls were smacking against your ass, and the slick squelch of your drenched pussy taking him again and again echoed in the room.

“Look at me,” he growled when you fluttered your eyes shut. You obeyed. “You wanted Valentine’s Day,” he rasped. “This what you had in mind, eh? Ridin’ your husband like he owes you money?”

“Yes,” you gasped, grinding down harder, chasing that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. “God—yes—”

He sat up suddenly, banding his arms around your back and crashing his mouth into yours. The new angle drove him deeper, and you cried out against his lips. Alfie slipped one hand between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with this thumb.

“Come on, pet,” he murmured against your throat, grazing your pulse with his teeth. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

You shuddered, clenching and soaking him as you shook apart on top of him. He followed seconds later, a curse tearing from his throat as he emptied himself inside you, jerking and holding you down so tightly you’d probably have bruises tomorrow.

For a long minute, you stayed like that, with your foreheads pressed together and your hearts hammering in tandem. Then he huffed a laugh. “Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day,” Alfie muttered again, but this time there was no teeth-clenching.

You smiled against his mouth and kissed him softly. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Alfie.”

Tommy’s Valentine

You stepped onto the porch after a long shift, with your keys already in hand. The porch light was on, and there he was. Tommy sat on the top step, a small bouquet of grocery-store daisies gripped in one scarred fist. His hoodie was up, but not enough to hide the fresh split above his left eyebrow, blood already drying in a thin line down his temple.

You stopped short. “What are you doing here, Tommy?”

He looked up with eyes red-rimmed. He stood slowly, and held the flowers out between you like an apology.

“I missed you,” he said. “I fucked up. I know I fucked up.”

The tension from last week still sat between you. Him pulling away again, disappearing for three days after swearing he was all in, after whispering things against your neck that made you believe it this time. You’d finally said enough, and this time you’d meant it.

You stared at the flowers, then at the blood on his face. “You’re bleeding.”

“Training,” he muttered, touching the cut like he’d only just remembered it was there. “Caught an elbow. It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing, you could see the swelling starting. You sighed, already losing the battle with yourself. “Come inside. Let me clean that before you bleed all over the steps.”

He followed without a word. You flicked on the kitchen light, pointed to the chair at the table. He sat, still holding the flowers like they were evidence he was trying.

You grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink, wet a clean cloth with warm water, and stood between his knees. He tipped his head back obediently while you dabbed at the cut. 

“Hold still,” you said, as your fingers shook a little.

He didn’t. His hands found your waist, first gentle, then tight, digging his fingers in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go, like he couldn’t help himself, he needed to touch you.

“Tommy—”

He pulled you closer in one rough motion, lifted you, and sat you across his lap so you straddled him on the chair, with your knees bracketing his hips. 

“No,” you said, placing your palms flat against his chest to push back. “We need to talk.”

He looked up at you with desperate eyes. “Then let’s talk.”

You felt him, pressing his hard and insisting length through his sweats, right against you. The heat flooded your face all at once.

“Talk,” he repeated, as he dragged you forward in a slow grind. The thick ridge of his cockhead caught right against your clit. “What do you have to say?”

“I can’t talk with your… thing against me,” you snapped, higher than you meant it to be.

A ghost of his old smirk flickered, but it died fast. He didn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightened, sliding his thumb under the hem of your work shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, quieter now. “For disappearing. For making you think I didn’t want this, or that I don’t want you. I panicked. Same old shit. Thought if I stayed gone long enough, you’d be better off.” He swallowed. “I was wrong. I’m always fucking wrong about that.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whispered. “One day you’re all in, the next you’re a ghost. I can’t keep waiting for the next time you disappear.”

You slid off his lap, feeling your legs unsteady on the kitchen floor. The heat was still buzzing between your thighs from where he'd been pressed against you, but the anger simmered in your chest.

You crossed your arms tight over your shirt, glaring down at him in the chair. "I'm still pissed at you, Tommy. Don't think a sorry and some flowers fix everything."

He leaned back, with that infuriating half-smile tugging at his busted lip, roaming his eyes over you like he couldn't help it. "You're adorable when you're angry."

You narrowed your eyes. "You should really watch what you say right now, because I'm this close to kicking you out." You held up your thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Don't push it."

Tommy's smile faded, but his gaze didn't waver. He reached out before you could step back, clamping his hands onto your hips with his strong grip. You gasped, moving your hands to his shoulders on instinct, but he didn't give you a chance to fight it. He pulled you forward in one smooth motion, lifting you effortlessly and settling you back onto his lap, straddling him again. His thighs were solid under you, and you felt him twitch against your core.

"Tommy—" you started, but he cut you off, sliding his hands up your sides, brushing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts through your shirt.

"Let me take you out for Valentine's. Dinner, whatever you want. Let me make it right."

Before you could answer, his mouth found your neck. His lips moved softly at first, then insistently, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. You tilted your head back without meaning to, a shiver racing down your spine as he grazed his teeth over your pulse point. Tommy rocked his hips up against you, the hard length of him grinding right where you needed it most. 

"I'm tired," you managed to say with a breathy voice. "I don't wanna go out. And I don't wanna think about how you're gonna disappear tomorrow as if none of this happened."

He paused, tightening his hands on your hips, holding you flush against him. "Let me prove it," he said, locking his eyes onto yours when he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "How much I'm in this. How much I want you. No disappearing. I swear."

His grip shifted, sliding one hand down to palm your ass, spreading you wider so he could grind deeper, the head of his cock catching and nudging your clothed clit on every pass now.

You searched his face, finding the raw honesty there that he so rarely let show. Your resolve cracked, just a little, but enough. "Tommy..."

You slid off his lap again and turned away fast, too fast, because the tears were already burning behind your eyes, and you didn’t want him to see them yet. 

“Hey—” His voice cracked on the single word. He stood up quickly. “What’s going on? Talk to me. Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head because your throat felt too tight to answer. You walked straight into the kitchen, opened the junk drawer where you’d shoved everything you didn’t want to look at for the last forty-eight hours. Your fingers closed around the slim white stick. You pulled it out, held it behind your back for a second like it might burn you, then turned.

Tommy stood in the doorway, his eyes wide and searching your face. You held the test out between you, the little pink plus sign stark against the plastic.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you said, and your voice came out small and wrecked.

He stared at it. Didn’t move or blink. “From when’s this?” he asked finally, barely above a whisper.

“Couple days ago.” You swallowed. “I missed my period. Felt… different. Nauseous in the mornings, tired like I’ve never been tired before. So I bought one on the way home from the store last Thursday. It was positive.” You let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been sitting with it since then.”

Tommy’s face did something you’d never seen before, it crumpled. His eyes went glassy, he took one step, then another, until he was close enough to take the test from your fingers. He looked at it again, brushing his thumb over the little window like he needed to feel it was real.

You watched his throat work, the way his jaw flexed and released, the way his breathing hitched. Then he dropped to one knee and pressed his forehead to your stomach, both hands sliding to your hips like he was afraid to hold you too tight. A sound came out of him that was half a sob, and half a laugh.

“We’re gonna have a baby,” he said against your shirt. His voice cracked on every word.

You threaded your fingers into his hair, holding on. Tears slipped down your cheeks now. “Are we? Or are you gonna disappear again?”

He went still, then he pulled back just enough to look up at you. His eyes were red and wet, but steady. “No,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You searched his face. “You say that now. But—”

“But I’m here now. And I’m staying. You hear me? I’m staying.”

You wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. He cupped your face with both hands, wiping at the tears you couldn’t stop with his thumbs. “I’m gonna be here for every doctor’s appointment. Every late-night craving. Every time you’re scared, or pissed, or whatever. I’m gonna be here when the kid’s screaming at three a.m. and when they’re graduating and every shitty, beautiful day in between. I swear it.”

A fresh sob caught in your throat. “You can’t just swear it, Tommy. You have to do it.”

“I will.” He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you so tight you could feel his heartbeat slamming against yours. “I’m not perfect. I’m probably gonna fuck up a hundred times. But disappearing? That’s done. I’m not losing you. I’m not losing this.”

You buried your face in his hoodie, breathing him in, and he kissed the top of your head, then your temple, then lower until his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, salty with both your tears, full of everything he’d never known how to say before.

He glanced down at your stomach, still the same, and something soft crossed his face. He placed one careful hand there. “Hey, kid,” he murmured. So quiet you almost didn’t hear it. “I’m your dad. And I’m already sorry for all the times I’m gonna suck at this. But I’m gonna try. Real hard.”

You laughed through the tears. Tommy looked back up at you. “I love you,” he said, like it was the easiest thing he’d ever said. “I should’ve said it more. I’m saying it now. I love you. And I love this kid already.”

You pressed your hand over his on your stomach. “I love you too,” you whispered. “Don’t make me regret believing you.”

“Let me show you how much I mean it.”

He didn't wait for more. In one fluid move, he lifted you like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist on reflex, and he turned, laying you back across the kitchen table with surprising gentleness. The wood was cool against your back through your shirt, but before you realized, Tommy's hands were already at your waistband, hooking his fingers into your pants and underwear, tugging them down in one swift pull.

You lifted your hips to help him, and he dropped to his knees between your legs, nudging your thighs apart with his broad shoulders. His eyes darkened as he looked at your pussy, exposed and waiting, and he let out a low groan that vibrated through his chest. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he muttered, more to himself than you, before leaning in.

“You’re gonna be such a good mom. I already know it.” He nuzzled the soft mound of your pussy, inhaling like he couldn’t get enough of you. “This kid’s so fucking lucky already. Got you for a mother. Got you growing them safe inside you right now.”

His breath ghosted over your inner thigh first, making you squirm. He pressed a kiss there, then another higher up, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. You reached down, threading your fingers into his short hair, but he caught your hand, pinning it gently to the table beside you. "Let me," he said, his voice muffled against your thigh. "Just let me."

You nodded, and he rewarded you with his mouth, finally, right where you ached. Tommy flicked his tongue out, flat and broad, licking a slow stripe up your slit, tasting you like he was starving. You arched off the table, a moan escaping before you could bite it back. Tommy hummed in approval, the vibration sending jolts straight through you, and then he licked you again, slower this time, savoring every inch.

He settled in then, without any rush, like he had all night to prove his point. Tommy sealed his lips over your clit, sucking it gently at first, then harder, circling his tongue with deliberate patterns that had your toes curling. One hand slid up your thigh, digging his fingers in to hold you open, while the other teased at your entrance, circling your hole, and pressing just the tip of his digits inside before pulling back, making you whine.

"Tommy, please," you gasped, bucking his hips toward his face.

He glanced up, meeting your eyes over the plane of your body, while his mouth was still working you relentlessly. "I've got you," he said against your folds, the words buzzing against your clit. Then he dove deeper, thrusting his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in rhythmic strokes. His nose nudged your clit with every push, and the dual sensation was slowly beginning to build your orgasm.

“You did this,” he said, voice muffled against you. “You made me a father. Me.” He sucked your clit harder for a second, making your hips jerk. “And I’m never gonna forget it. Never gonna let you down again.”

You gripped the edge of the table with your free hand until your knuckles hurt, as he alternated from delving his tongue deep, then retreating it to lap at your clit, sucking with his lips closed around it until you saw stars. Tommy added a finger, then two, curling them just right to hit that spot inside you that made your vision blur. His pace was unhurried but intense, pumping his fingers and flicking his tongue faster now, building you up inch by inch.

Sweat beaded on your skin, making tour shirt cling to your body. "Oh god, Tommy! Don't stop—"

He didn't, if anything, he went harder, twisting his fingers, pressing his tongue flat, and dragging it up before swirling around your clit again. The sounds were obscene, his low groans, and loud slurps mixing with your whimpers. 

Your thighs trembled around his head as the pressure built, higher and higher, until you shattered. The orgasm crashed over you, making you lift your hips off the table and tear a cry from your throat. Tommy didn't pull away, he worked you through it, gentling his movements but not stopping until you’d drawn out every last shudder. 

You collapsed back, as he finally eased off, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs while you caught your breath. He rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at you sprawled on the table. "Believe me now?" he asked.

You managed a weak laugh, sitting up on your  elbows. "Maybe. But you're not done proving it yet."

Johnny’s Valentine

The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky in a pink and bruised purple. You waited on the front steps of your small house, arms crossed, wearing a black dress with red flowers, and a leather jacket zipped tight.

You heard the deep rumble growing closer. Johnny’s headlight sliced through the dusk first. The red bike rolled up and stopped at the curb. He swung his leg over the seat, his hair looked wind-tousled already, strands falling across his forehead. He pulled the cigarette from his lips and looked straight at you.

“Been freezin’ out here long?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Long enough.”

He gave you that small half-smirk, crushed the cigarette under his boot, stepped closer, and lifted the spare helmet from the sissy bar. Johnny set it on your head himself, careful as he buckled the strap. He brushed the edge of your jaw and lingered a second longer than was necessary.

He climbed back on, kicked the starter, and the engine barked awake beneath him. You swung your leg over, settled behind, wrapped your arms around his waist, and pressed your chest to his back. Even through the layers, you felt the heat of him. He reached back once, squeezed your knee, and then both hands found the grips.

“Hold tight, sweetheart.”

The town slipped away in smears of light. Johnny rode fast on the empty roads, leaning the bike into gentle curves so your body followed his without thought.

After twenty minutes or so, he slowed, flicked on the high beam, and turned off the pavement onto a narrow gravel lane you’d never seen before. The bike jounced over ruts, and you clung tighter. 

The trees opened, and the river appeared. Johnny coasted to a stop in a small, cleared patch beside the bank. 

He killed the engine and stayed seated a moment, then patted your thigh twice. You slid off, and Johnny followed, swung the saddlebags down, and set them on the ground.

You watched him unpack: a blanket first, shaken out and spread across the grass. Then a small cooler and a brown paper sack. 

“Sit,” he said, nodding at the blanket.

You dropped down cross-legged. He settled beside you, close enough that your shoulder brushed his. He opened the cooler and got two beers out, twisted both caps off with his lighter, and handed one to you. 

He tapped his bottle to yours. “Happy Valentine’s”

You both drank, and for a while you just sat, watching the river slide past. Johnny dug into the paper sack and pulled out two foil-wrapped sandwiches still warm.

“Benny’s lady made these,” he said, almost sheepish. “Told me if I was gonna do Valentine’s, I better not show up with some gas-station crap.”

You laughed and ate the sandwich slowly, trading bites, brushing your fingers together. When the sandwiches were gone ,he pulled you in closer, settling his arm heavily across your shoulders. You leaned into him, laying your head against his chest. 

“Cold?” he asked after a while.

“A little.”

He shrugged out of his jacket without a word and draped it over your lap. It carried his warmth and his smell, leather and cigarette smoke. You pulled it tighter around you.

“Better?” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He finished his beer, set the empty bottle carefully in the grass, and then he turned to you. One rough hand came up and cupped the side of your face,  tracing the corner of your mouth.

“Happy Valentine’s, darlin’,” he said, almost quieter than the river.

You didn’t answer with words. You leaned in and kissed him. He slid his fingers into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen it. A low sound rumbled in his throat, and when you finally pulled back, you were both breathing harder, pressing your foreheads together, noses brushing.

He reached into the saddlebag again, and his hand came out with a small black velvet pouch. He tipped the contents into his palm: A thin silver chain, hanging from it was a tiny “J” charm.

“Didn’t want nothin’ flashy,” he muttered, suddenly looking almost awkward. “This way, everybody will know you’re mine.”

You stared at the little “J” resting in his callused hand.

“Johnny…”

He cleared his throat. “You gonna let me put it on you or what?”

You turned so he could fasten the clasp. His fingers were careful and warm against the back of your neck. When the chain settled against your skin, it felt right, like it belonged there.

He looked at it for a long moment, then at you. Something soft flickered in his eyes. “Looks good,” he said simply.

You touched the charm with your fingertips. “Yeah. It does.”

The river kept its steady murmur while the moon climbed higher. You sat pressed against Johnny’s side, you’d been kissing on and off for what felt like forever, lazy at first, then hungrier. Each time you pulled back to breathe, he’d look at you with those blue eyes, brushing your lower lip with his thumb like he was memorizing the shape of it.

He shifted, turning more fully toward you, sliding onto the back of your neck, threading his fingers into your hair. He tugged gently, not roughly, just enough to tilt your head the way he wanted. Then his mouth was on yours again, deeper this time.

You made a small sound against his lips, as you found the front of his shirt, bunching the soft cotton under his open jacket. He groaned, pulling you closer until you were half in his lap, straddling one of his thighs.

His free hand settled on your hip, and he broke the kiss long enough to drag his mouth along your jaw, down the side of your throat. When his teeth grazed the spot just under your ear, you gasped, tightening your fingers in his shirt.

“Johnny…”

He paused, his lips remaining against your pulse. “Yeah?”

You swallowed, feeling your heart hammering so hard you were sure he could feel it. “I’m just… We haven’t…”

He lifted his head, searching for your eyes in the moonlight. “I know,” he said simply. “We don’t have to do anythin’ you ain’t ready for.”

You shook your head quickly. “I want to. I just…” You licked your lips, suddenly shy even after months of this, rides together, late-night talks in diner parking lots. “I’ve wanted to for a while. Just… first times with someone are always important.”

Something softened in his face, and he cupped your cheek with his rough palm. “Then we go as slow as you need,” he murmured. “Or we stop. Your call, sweetheart.”

You searched his eyes for a long moment. Then you leaned in and kissed him again, when you pulled back, you whispered against his mouth, “I don’t want to stop.”

He exhaled through his nose, a sound that was almost a laugh. Then he kissed you harder, hungrier, as a dam that had finally cracked. Johnny slid both hands under your jacket now, pulling your dress down inch by inch until the cool air hit your exposed breasts. He palmed one breast fully, brushing over the stiff peak in a lazy circle that made your back arch off the blanket. 

He eased you down onto the blanket, and he followed, bracing himself on one forearm so his weight didn’t crush you. His fingertips traced the underside of your breasts, making you arch into his touch, and he made an appreciative sound as he lowered his head, kissing a slow path down your throat, your collarbone, the swell of your breast. He took a nipple into his mouth without warning, flicking his tongue, then flattening to lap broadly. 

Johnny switched sides, grazing his teeth over the stiff peak, and then soothing your nipple with another long and filthy lick. Spit glistened on your breasts when he finally pulled back, strings of it connecting his lips to your nipple for a second before snapping.

“You’re so fuckin’ sensitive. Bet I could make you cum just from this if I kept goin’.”

You bit your lip, but you couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped. He grinned and went back to what he was doing. Johnny slid a hand down your lower stomach, and you lifted your hips without thinking. He tugged your underwear down your legs, dropping them somewhere on the grass.

Johnny paused, flicking his eyes to yours. “Still good?”

You nodded fast. “Yeah. Just… cold.”

He leaned down, kissed the inside of your knee, then higher. “I’ll warm you up.”

He settled between your legs, and his mouth found you, with slow licks at first, exploratory, learning every hitch of your breath, every small sound you tried to swallow. When he sucked gently on your clit your jerked your hips, and he pressed one of his big hands flat against your lower belly, holding you still while he worked you with steady strokes of his tongue.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmured against you, the vibration of his words hummed right through your swollen clit. “Lemme take care of this pretty pussy the way she deserves.”

His tongue went back to work, flattening to lap from your entrance all the way up, then curling the tip to circle your clit in teasing rings. Every time you tried to buck he pressed down harder on your stomach, the pressure somehow making everything feel sharper.

“Johnny—oh god! It… It feels amazing.”

He pulled back only long enough to speak, his lips shiny with you. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet when you’re this close. Gonna make you cum all over my tongue, sweetheart. Then I’m gonna slide in deep and feel how tight you get right after.”

He dove back in without waiting for an answer. This time he sealed his mouth over your clit, sucking harder, pulsing his lips in a steady rhythm while the flat of his tongue flicked fast underneath. The hand on your belly slid lower, pushing two thick fingers inside you without warning, stretching you open. He curled them immediately, hooking right against that perfect spot, and pumped them in time with the suction on your clit.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, not pulling, just holding on. The pleasure built slowly, until your thighs started to shake. He didn’t let up, and when you finally came, it hit you like an overwhelming wave, your back arching off the blanket as you gasped his name.

He kissed his way back up your body while you trembled through the aftershocks of your climax, just soft open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, your ribs, your tits. When he reached your mouth, he kissed you deeply.

You reached for his belt with shaking hands. He helped you until his jeans were shoved down just enough. He was hard, his length thick against your thigh, leaving a streak of pre-cum there. You wrapped your fingers around him, and he hissed through his teeth, dropping his forehead to yours.

“Fuck, baby…”

You stroked him slowly, watching his face, the way he clenched his jaw, the way he fluttered his eyes half-closed. He caught your wrist after a minute. “Gonna make me cum if you keep that up,” he muttered.

You smiled, a little wicked despite the nerves still fluttering in your stomach. “Then get inside me already.”

Johnny huffed a laugh and shifted, settling between your thighs again. He braced himself on one arm and used the other hand to guide himself, nudging the blunt head against you.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded, your breath hitching. Johnny pushed in inch by inch. There was a stretch, and a faint burn, he was bigger than the guys you’d been with before. But he went so slow, pausing every few seconds to kiss you, to murmur against your mouth, “You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart… so fuckin’ good…” so the burning never crossed into pain. When his cock was fully seated inside you, he stilled, breathing hard.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You feel…” He didn’t finish, just kissed you again, letting you adjust.

After a minute, you rolled your hips experimentally, that seemed to be the signal he needed. He started moving with measured thrusts that dragged against every sensitive place inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your feet into the small of his back to urge him deeper inside your hole. The blanket bunched under you, the night was cold, but you were burning up everywhere you touched him.

He found a rhythm, steady without being rushed. Every time he bottomed out, you gasped, and every time he pulled almost all the way out, you whimpered at the loss. He slipped one hand between you, circling your clit with his thumb in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation made your head spin.

“Johnny—fuck—”

“Yeah? Right there?”

You could only nod, all words gone. He sped up just enough, still controlled and careful, but the angle shifted, and suddenly every stroke hit the perfect spot inside your walls. You clenched around him, and he cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering for the first time.

“Gonna cum,” you managed to say. “Johnny—Gonna cum again!”

“Do it,” he rasped. “Let me feel you clenchin’ around me.”

You did, harder than before, your whole body locking up as the pleasure ripped through you. He fucked you through it, drawing your climax out until you were shaking and gasping against his neck.

When the aftershocks finally eased, he pulled out, the sudden emptiness made you clench around nothing. Johnny groaned at the sight of you, your legs still spread, your dress bunched up, your pussy glistening and flushed from him stretching you open.

He wrapped one hand around his cock, still slick with you, and stroked himself hard and fast. His eyes stayed locked on where he’d just been buried inside you, watching the way your body fluttered like it was still trying to pull him back in. “Fuck… look at you,” he rasped. “All fucked-out and drippin’ for me.”

Two more rough pumps and he came, thick ropes spilling across your stomach. The first stripe landed just below your navel, the next higher, streaking over your belly button. He kept groaning your name, jerking his hips with each spurt like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. 

Eventually, he lifted his head, kissed you softly, then reached into the saddlebag for a rag he always carried. He cleaned you up carefully, almost tenderly, before tugging your dress back into place and zipping your jacket with clumsy fingers.

You caught his wrist before he could pull away. “Come here.”

He did, settling beside you on the blanket and pulling you against his chest. His heartbeat was still fast under your ear. After a while, he spoke. “You okay?”

You nodded against him. “More than okay.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Good.”

You stayed like that until the cold finally won. He helped you up, packed everything away, and when you climbed back on the bike, he wrapped your arms tighter around his waist than usual, like he didn’t want any space between you. You pressed your cheek to his back and closed your eyes. For the first time in a long time, the night felt exactly right.

Harry’s Valentine

You woke to the sound of knocking, followed by the murmur of male voices. The clock on the nightstand read 7:42 a.m. Valentine’s Day, and as you expected it, the bed beside you was empty, the sheets cool where Harry should have been. You rubbed sleep from your eyes, pulled on your silk robe, and padded barefoot toward the front door.

When you opened it, the fragrance hit you right away, almost making you cough. Three men in dark suits stood there, with their arms loaded with floral arrangements. Roses in every shade from red to pink, lilies, peonies, orchids, probably worth thousands of pounds. 

“Morning, Mrs. Da Souza,” the tallest one said. “Mr. Da Souza sends his regards. Where would you like these?”

You blinked. “All… of them?”

“There’s more in the van,” another added. “He said, ‘fill the house.’ We took that literally.”

Behind them, two more men were already hauling in additional deliveries. You stepped aside, dazed, and watched how this SWAT team of florists placed the  arrangements on every available surface: the entry table, the kitchen island, the living room coffee table. 

One of them handed you a small card before they left. Harry’s handwriting read: Not enough flowers in London to make up for the nights I wasn’t here. But it’s a start. –H

You pressed the card to your chest and followed the scent of coffee and something buttery toward the kitchen. A man was already there. He didn’t look up from the pan when you entered.

“Good morning, Mrs. Da Souza. I’m Chef Laurent. Mr. Da Souza arranged breakfast. Eggs Benedict with black truffle hollandaise, brioche French toast, fresh berries, and a side of caviar blinis.”

You stared at him, perplexed. “Harry… hired a chef? For breakfast?”

“He was very specific.” Laurent smiled. “Sit. It’ll be ready in seven minutes.”

You sank onto a stool and watched him plate everything with precision. The food arrived looking like art, you took one bite and closed your eyes. It was obscene how good it tasted.

Halfway through, your phone buzzed, and Harry’s name lit the screen.

You answered. “You sent an army of flowers and a chef. Are you dying or something?”

A chuckle came through, the one that still made your stomach flip after all those years. “Not yet, love. Just trying not to be a complete bastard for once.”

“You know this doesn’t fix everything.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “But it’s Valentine’s. Figured I’d start by overwhelming you. Dinner tonight. Seven. I’ll pick you up. Wear the black dress, the one with the low back. Please.”

He hung up before you could argue.

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze. The flowers perfumed every room. You wandered the house, touching the petals, rereading the card. 

At six-thirty, you slipped into the black dress he loved and added the earrings he had given you for your anniversary two years earlier. You stared at yourself in the mirror and wondered if tonight was just another meaningless attempt to make you forget about his absence, or if he actually meant it.

The doorbell rang at exactly seven.

You opened it to find him standing there in a charcoal suit. He looked tired, he always did lately, but his eyes softened when they landed on you. 

“You look…” He exhaled. “Fuck. You look unreal, babe.”

“You clean up nice yourself.” You stepped aside to let him in, but he didn’t move.

“Got something for you first.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim velvet box. Inside was a delicate gold chain with a single diamond pendant. 

You let him clasp it around your neck, his fingers brushed your skin, and lingered a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” He offered his arm. “Car’s waiting.”

The restaurant was one you had only heard about. It was private, members-only. Inside, the lights were dim, and the ambiance was intimate. A single table waited for you in the back corner, with candles flickering, a bottle of your favorite wine already waiting for you. The maître d’ greeted Harry by name and disappeared.

Harry pulled your chair out and sat across from you. 

“I know I’m shit at this,” he said quietly once the wine was poured. “The job… it takes pieces. I forget dates. I forget what you need sometimes, even when you’re right there. And I hate it.”

You swirled the wine. “You think flowers and a fancy dinner change that?”

“No.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “But maybe it’s proof I still see you. That I still want this. Want us.”

The first course arrived, something delicate and fancy you couldn’t quite name. You ate in silence for a moment.

“I booked the whole place,” he said suddenly. “No one else here tonight. Just us. No interruptions. No phone. No Harrigans.”

You looked up. “You shut down a Michelin restaurant for Valentine’s?”

“Perks of knowing people.” He offered you a  small, crooked smile. “The owner owed me some favors.”

You laughed despite yourself. “Romantic.”

He reached across the table and took your hand, tracing circles over your knuckles. “I don’t know how to be good at being a husband. But I know I don’t want to lose you. Not to my own stupidity.”

When you finally left, the night air was cool. He walked you to the car with a hand at the small of your back. Fifteen minutes later, the car glided to a stop outside the house.

Inside, the house still smelled like a perfume bomb had exploded, the roses and gardenias and lilies were still crowding every surface.

He closed the front door with a click, shrugged out of his coat, and hung it on the hook. You kicked off your heels by the entry table.

No words came at first. Just his hand found the small of your back again, as he guided you toward the stairs. 

As soon as you both stepped inside the bedroom, you reached up and loosened the knot of his tie, sliding it free. 

He kissed you then, moving his mouth over yours as though he wanted to memorize the shape again. His tongue traced the seam of your lips until you opened for him. He cupped the back of your neck with one hand and slid the other down to grip your hip.

You walked backward toward the bed, his body crowding yours, guiding you. When the backs of your knees hit the mattress, he didn’t push, he just let you sink, following until he braced over you on one forearm, the other hand already working the zipper at the side of your dress.

The fabric pooled around your waist, and Harry paused, dragging his eyes over bare skin as though he hadn’t seen you in years instead of hours.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

You tugged at his shirt buttons, feeling impatient now. “Less talking. More touching.”

A low laugh rumbled out of him. “You’re bossy tonight.”

He let you strip the shirt off him, until he was down to skin and the faint scars you knew by heart. You traced them with your fingertips, and he shivered.

Then, you felt his lips moving down your throat, slow drags of his lips and tongue, as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch under him. When he reached the diamond pendant, he paused and pressed an open-mouthed kiss right above it.

“Looks good on you,” he murmured against your skin. “Knew it would.”

His hands were everywhere then, sliding the dress the rest of the way off, unhooking your bra with ease, palming your breasts until your nipples pebbled under his thumbs. You gasped when he took one in his mouth, sucking it slowly, flicking his tongue in lazy circles while his other hand slipped between your thighs.

He found you already soaked, your cunt slick and swollen, your lips parted and glistening under his fingers like you'd been aching for him all day. 

He dragged two fingers through your folds slowly, letting the wet sound fill the quiet room.

“Fuck, love,” he breathed. “This all for me?”

“Been thinking about you all day,” you admitted, your voice catching as he circled your clit with his fingers. “The way you looked at me in the restaurant. Seeing you is enough to get me like this.”

He lifted his head. “Good. Because I’ve been thinking about this since I left the house this morning.”

He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, still working slow circles over your clit with his thumb. You moaned, lifting your hips into his hand. He didn’t speed up, just kept that steady, maddening rhythm.

“Look at this mess you’ve made,” he murmured, almost reverent. “Been walking around with your pretty little cunt dripping all day.  Thinking about my cock splitting you open.”

You couldn’t answer, only whimpered, your thighs trembling as he added a third finger, stretching you wider, fucking into you with lazy thrusts that made your walls flutter and clench.

“That’s it,” he growled against the shell of your ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. “Let me feel how greedy you are. Squeeze my fingers.”

He crooked them harder, dragging over that spot that made your vision blur, while his other hand slid up to pinch your nipple sharp enough to sting. The combined sensation ripped another broken moan from your throat.

His fingers never faltered, pumping deep until your whole body shook, climaxing under his hands. He kept thrusting his fingers, prolonging your orgasm as much as he could. 

After you came down from your high, Harry stood long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, trousers, boxers and socks, then climbed back over you, settling between your thighs. His cock was heavy against your stomach, already leaking at the tip. You reached down, wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him steadily. He hissed, jerking his hips forward.

“Easy,” he warned, but there was no heat in it. “Been too long since I let myself have you like this.”

You guided him to your entrance, slick and ready to take your husband, your folds swollen and parted, glistening with how badly you needed him. He nudged the blunt head of his cock against you, spreading your wetness as you tilted your hips just enough to invite him in.

He pushed in agonisingly slow, letting you feel every ridge as he sank deeper. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, trying to pull him in faster even as he held back. The stretch burned sweetly, until finally he seated himself to the hilt, his hips flush against yours, his balls pressed to your ass, buried so deep you swore you felt him in your throat.

“Missed this,” he dropped his forehead against yours. “Missed you.”

Then he started to move with slow rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive place inside you. Each thrust pulled a broken sound from your throat. He caught them with his mouth, kissing you messily, sliding your tongues together while he fucked you with that same measured pace.

His hand found your throat, not squeezing it, just holding, resting his thumb over your pulse. The other pinned your wrist above your head before he shifted his angle, grinding against your clit with every roll of his hips.

“Tell me,” he growled against your lips. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good,” you gasped. “It’s perfect. You’re so fucking deep—Harry—”

He groaned your name like it was torn out of him, as he snapped forward a little harder, the careful rhythm fracturing into something rougher. You felt every thick inch of him drive deeper, stretching you open until the blunt head kissed that spot that made your vision spark.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, locking your ankles at the small of his back, digging into the muscle to pull him in, shameless, urging him to bury himself to the hilt again and again. The angle changed, and he bottomed out with a slap of skin on skin that echoed in the quiet room.

“Cum for me,” he murmured, but you could hear the pleading edge in his voice. “Want to feel it. Want to feel you soak my cock.”

Harry slipped his hand between your legs again, finding your clit and rubbing circles while he kept thrusting.

“Take it,” he rasped against your lips. “Take every fucking inch, let me feel that pretty cunt milk me. Gonna cum so deep inside you you’ll be dripping me for hours.”

It hit you like a wave. You cried out, arching your back, raking your nails down his shoulders. He fucked you through it, drawing it out until you shook.

He didn’t stop. “Again,” he said, almost feral now. “Give me another one.”

You didn’t think you could, but he changed the angle just slightly, hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes. His fingers never left your clit, and the second orgasm built slower, until it crashed over you in rolling pulses. You clenched around him so hard he cursed.

You felt him throb inside you, impossibly harder, the vein along the underside pulsing against your walls with every erratic thrust. He was losing it.

“Fuck—love. I’m gonna— I’m cumming.”

He followed you right after, burying himself to the hilt, cumming with a broken groan against your throat. You felt him pulse inside you, hot ropes of cum that painted your insides, leaving you filled with his seed. 

He finally lifted his head, brushed damp hair from your face, and kissed you softly. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m not good at this, at being the husband you deserve. But I’m not ready to lose you. Not ever.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then don’t disappear on me again.”

He exhaled, nodding once. “Trying.”

It wasn’t a promise, Harry didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep, but it was close enough.

Eddie’s Valentine

The kitchen smelled like burnt meat and slightly scorched garlic. You were out, running some errands, and Eddie had the place to himself. Well, himself and Venom.

Eddie wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist and glared at the smoking pan on the stove. “You’re doing this on purpose. I told you to watch the steaks.”

A low rumble escaped the symbiote’s mouth. “And I said you’re being a cheap-ass.”

“I’m not being a cheap-ass. I’m being romantic. There’s a difference.”

“Romantic is a dinner reservation. Romantic is someone else doing the dishes. Romantic is not you sweating like a pig while we ruin steak number three.”

Eddie flipped the ribeye anyway, the outside was charcoal, but the inside was still mooing. He sighed, sounding defeated, and slid it onto a plate to rest.

“I wanted to do this myself,” he muttered, reaching for the red wine reduction he’d been cooking for twenty minutes. “She likes it when I try. She said that last week. ‘I like it when you try, Eddie.’ Direct quote.”

Venom rolled his wide white eyes with disdain. “She also likes steak that isn’t burnt. And a boyfriend who isn’t too broke to take her to that Italian place with the garlic bread she loves.”

“I’m not broke,” Eddie snapped, louder than he meant to. “I’m… financially responsible.”

“Financially responsible guys don’t get pussy.”

Eddie nearly dropped the saucepan. “Jesus, Venom.”

“I’m just saying because this—” a black tendril slithered out of Eddie’s shoulder, pointing at the wilted asparagus, the lumpy mashed potatoes, the sauce that had separated into oil slicks, “this is not screaming ‘I value your vagina.’”

Eddie swatted the tendril away, and it snapped back like a rubber band and smacked him in the cheek. “Stop that.”

Venom retreated the tendril, but not before knocking the salt shaker into the mashed potatoes. Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose so hard his eyes watered.

“Okay. Listen. We have forty minutes. Forty. I can salvage this. I’ve got the backup chicken in the fridge, I can pan-sear it, throw some of that fancy herb butter—”

A black appendage emerged from Eddie’s forearm, hooking the fridge door, and yanking it open so hard the condiments rattled.

The chicken was gone. Eddie stared at the empty shelf. “Where. Is. The. Chicken.”

Venom let out a satisfied slurp. “I was hungry.”

“You ate the backup chicken. You absolute—!”

“I was helping. You were going to overcook it anyway.”

Eddie slammed the fridge shut. “I swear to God, if you touch one more thing—”

One black tendril oozed out of Eddie’s neck, wrapping itself around the bottle of expensive balsamic he’d bought specifically for the reduction, and tipped it sideways, pouring it onto the counter.

Eddie lunged, but Venom retracted the tendril just fast enough that he smacked Eddie’s cheek instead.

“OW! Fuck—you’re the worst Valentine’s date I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not your date. I’m your better half. And your better half says take her out before she walks in and sees you crying.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You’re looking a little wet.”

“I’m sweating!” Eddie dragged both hands down his face. “You know what? Fine. You win. I’ll take her to that stupid Italian place.”

The front door clicked open, and there you were, flushed from the cold outside, your keys dangling from your fingers. Eddie stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, with a spatula raised as he pointed it at the symbiote’s head. He looked at you, then at the sad little table with its single rose, then back at you.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re… early.”

You kicked the door shut behind you, flicking your eyes over the scene: the slightly crooked candles, the mismatched plates, the pan on the stove with the burnt steaks.

“Really?” you said, lifting your eyebrows with surprise. “You’ll take me to the Italian place? With the garlic bread?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I, uh… I tried doing something special. With my own hands. Thought it’d be nice. Romantic, y’know? But—” He gestured vaguely toward the counter. “It didn’t work. At all.”

You stepped closer, shedding your coat onto the back of a chair. Your eyes softened as you took in the effort, the wilted attempt at asparagus, the potatoes clearly mashed by Venom, the fact that he’d even bothered with cloth napkins.

“That’s so sweet, Eddie,” you said quietly. “I really value the effort. Like… really.”

Eddie exhaled, dropping his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love how hard you try for me. It means more than any dinner at a fancy restaurant.”

“It was my idea,” Venom said as he elongated the black mass of a neck, stretching it closer to you. “I suggested cooking. I said, ‘Eddie, let’s make it personal.’ I’m the romantic one.”

Eddie’s eye twitched with irritation. “You burnt three steaks and ate the backup chicken raw, you lying sack of—”

You laughed, patting the smooth curve of his head, making the symbiote purr like a cat. “I’m sure you tried your best, V. Thank you.”

Eddie huffed. “Yeah, sure. He tried his best to sabotage the entire night and then take credit for the one part that actually worked.”

Venom flicked his tongue out just once, in a teasing and mocking gesture, before he retracted his neck back into Eddie’s shoulder.

You closed the last step between you, slid your hands up Eddie’s chest, and kissed him slowly. Eddie groaned into your mouth, finding your waist and pulling you flush against him. When you broke the kiss, you stayed close, brushing your nose against his.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For trying. For all of it.” Then you sank to your knees.

Eddie’s breath hitched. “Baby—”

You looked up at him through your lashes, already working the button of his jeans. “Let me thank you properly.”

He stared down, wide-eyed like he couldn’t quite believe the turn the night had taken. His hands hovered uselessly for a second before settling on your shoulders. You tugged his jeans and boxers down just enough until his cock sprang free, already half-hard from knowing what was coming. You wrapped your fingers around the base and gave one slow stroke,

Eddie tipped his head back with a curse. “Fuck.”

You smiled against the tip and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss there, then licked a long and wet stripe from the base to the head. You could feel how Eddie tensed his thighs under your palms, and so you took him into your mouth, slow at first, just the head, swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge while you worked the shaft in lazy twists of your hand.

Eddie looked down again. “Jesus… you don’t have to—”

You pulled off with a wet pop, just long enough to say, “I want to.” And then you swallowed him deeper.

He groaned louder this time, sliding one hand into your hair, pushing you softly, encouraging you to take more inside your mouth. You bobbed your head, taking more of him each time, letting your lips stretch around his thickness. Your saliva slicked him up fast, and you used it to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach, twisting your wrist on every upstroke.

Venom’s voice slithered through the room. “Look at her. So good for us… so wet already, I can smell it.”

Eddie jerked his hips once, and you hummed around him in answer, the vibration making his lower belly clench. You pulled back until just the head rested on your tongue, then sucked hard, hollowing your cheeks.

Eddie tightened his hands in your hair. “Fuck—baby. Slow down, or I’m gonna—”

You didn’t slow down. You took him to the back of your throat, brushing your nose against his pelvis, and held there for a long second while your throat worked around him. Eddie’s knees nearly buckled, and a string of curses fell from his mouth.

You pulled off gasping, a thick strand of spit connecting your lips to his cock that you wiped with the back of your hand, grinning up at him like you’d won something.

You went back down, working him fast and sloppy in the best way. You cupped his balls with one hand rolling them gently, tracing the sensitive seam while the other wrapped firmly around the base, pumping in perfect time with the wet slide of your mouth. Eddie jerked forward in helpless little thrusts, he tried to hold still, tried to be polite, but he couldn’t. Each shallow rock of his pelvis pushed him deeper, and every time you met him with an eager moan around his length, he lost another piece of control.

Venom rumbled again. “She’s ours. Look how she takes us. Look how she wants it.”

Eddie’s grip in your hair turned almost painful. “I’m… fuck—I’m close. I can’t… I’m gonna—”

You moaned around him, encouraging every desperate twitch of his hips. You sucked harder—hollowing your cheeks and pressing along the underside, and that was it. Eddie came with a broken sound. Hot ropes of cum spilled down your throat in thick pulses, you swallowed greedily around him, trying to take every drop, milking him through it. You didn’t pull off right away, just kept your mouth on him until his thighs trembled and his cock jerked with overstimulation, too sensitive now for anything but gentle suction.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with that same soft and satisfied smile.

Eddie dragged a hand over his face, still breathing hard. “You’re… unreal.”

You stood, wiped your mouth again, and leaned in to kiss him, letting him taste himself on your tongue. He groaned into it, wrapping his arms around you like he never wanted to let go.

Venom’s voice came quieter now. “Told you cooking was a good idea.”

Eddie snorted against your lips. “Shut up.”

A/N: Heyyyy, so this is my little Valentine’s present for all of you beautiful people🩷

I hope you enjoy these Valentine’s Day stories. They’re not super long or overly detailed since there are five of them, so I tried to keep things short and straight to the point, but I still hope the smut was hot and the fluff was sweet. I’m sorry I didn’t write for all of Tom’s characters I usually write for, I really struggled with inspiration for these and my brain was completely fried😭

Also, a huge thank you to @mapping-out-skies for helping me out with some ideas for the Harry one

You’d felt the loneliness growing for weeks now, ever since your husband, Fred, started coming home later and later, with his breath reeking of whisky every time he kissed you goodnight, and his clothes covered in cigarette smoke. He’d stopped meeting your eyes when he spoke, and yet, there you were sitting on the edge of the bed in your slip and dressing gown, brushing out your hair.

Fred’d said he’d be back by nine. That promise had already dissolved into a lie you no longer bothered to call him on. You held a quiet appreciation for the man, not the wild and all-consuming love some women dream of, but the inevitable kind that settled in after too many years standing beside someone. He’d gone to your father and asked for your hand, then bought a house, and made sure you wanted for very little, at least on the surface.

All of a sudden, the front door opened downstairs, and you froze when you noticed two sets of footsteps instead of one. The voices were muffled by the closed bedroom door, but you caught fragments.

“…told you it’d be sorted tonight, Reg. I swear—”

A deeper voice answered. “Swearin’s cheap, Fred. You know that.”

You stood up slowly, pulling the dressing gown tighter around yourself, suddenly aware of how thin the silk was.

The bedroom door opened without a knock and Fred stepped inside first. His face was the colour of a sheet of paper, and his eyes red-rimmed. Behind him filling the doorway like he owned the entire house, stood Reggie Kray.

You'd known Reggie Kray from way back. He was your schoolgirl crush, barely more than kids, really. Then life pulled you apart like it does, different paths, different crowds, and you'd counted yourself lucky to have slipped away, never getting tangled up with a man like the one he'd turned into. You knew what he’d become, there was nothing left of that soft-eyed boy who'd once seemed sweet, almost gentle.

His eyes, unreadable, found yours immediately, and didn’t waver. You wondered if he remembered you as well, though you doubted he did.

You took an involuntary step back until your calves hit the edge of the bed. “Fred?” Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “What’s going on?”

Fred shut the door behind them and Reggie didn’t move any further into the room, he simply stood there, watching you with interest.

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck with shaky fingers. “Sit down, love,” he said. “Please.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” You looked from him to Reggie and back again. “Why is he here? In our house. In our bedroom.”

Fred swallowed. “I— I fucked up, alright? I fucked up bad.”

You felt the air leave your lungs in a slow leak. You knew your husband was a man who made mistakes, you knew he’d been lying to you, but you never expected him to get involved with people like the Kray. “How bad?”

Reggie spoke then, sounding almost gentle. And it was that gentleness that made your skin prickle. “Bad enough that your husband’s life ain’t worth the paper it’s written on unless someone makes it right.”

You stared at him, and Fred took a step toward you, raising his hands like he was trying to calm a startled horse. “I borrowed money. A lot. From… from people I shouldn’t have. From him.” He jerked his head toward Reggie without looking at him. “Thought I could turn it round quick, I had a couple of deals. You know how it goes.”

You did know. You’d watched him lose rent money, grocery money, the emergency stash you kept under the mattress. You’d watched him promise himself and you that this time would be different.

“How much?” you asked, the words trembling out of your mouth. “I’ve got my jewellery here. I’ve—I’ve got that pair of gold earrings, and—”

You started moving toward the vanity, already reaching out for your jewelry, but Fred closed his hand around your arm firm enough to stop you cold.

“No. It’s too much for a pair of earrings. Won’t even touch it.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself. “So what happens now? They break your legs? Your hands? Or do they just—” You couldn’t finish it, the possibility of your husband dying, turning you into a widow, was one you couldn’t even consider.

Reggie tilted his head slightly, studying you. “Fred here came to me with a proposition,” he said. “Said he couldn’t pay. Not in cash, but he had somethin’ else. Somethin’ valuable.”

You felt the room tilt as you looked at your husband, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Part of you didn’t feel the need to ask, you already knew the answer, but the question still left your mouth.

“Fred,” you whispered. “What did you do?”

He finally lifted his head, and the tears were standing in his eyes, but they didn’t fall. “I asked him… I asked if there was another way. Any other way.” His voice cracked. “He said there might be. If you agreed.”

You felt something cold behind your ribs, the weight of your husband’s betrayal freezing your entire body. “Agreed to what?”

Fred didn’t answer, as if saying it out loud made him feel ashamed. You stared at Reggie, at the way his mouth curved just enough to show he was perfectly aware of how obscene the suggestion was, and how little it troubled him.

“No,” you said. “No. Get out.”

Fred stepped forward, desperate now, outright begging you like a little kid who runs scared to his mother. “Listen, listen to me. They’ll kill me, love. They’ll do worse than kill me. They’ll make it last. You don’t know what they’re capable of—”

“I know enough,” you snapped.

Reggie hadn’t moved. He simply watched the exchange like a spectator at a play. Fred dropped to his knees in front of you, reaching out to try and hold your hands, but you jerked them away.

“Please,” he said. “It won’t cost you anything. It’s just a couple of minutes for you and I’ll get to live. And he promised… he promised he wouldn’t hurt you. He gave his word.”

“You sold me,” you said wonderingly. “You actually sold me.”

Fred shook his head violently. “No—no, it ain’t like that. It’s just… it’s just time. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”

“Stop talking,” you said as you looked around the room, at the chipped dressing table, at the photograph of your wedding day propped against the mirror, at the man kneeling in front of you like a beggar, at the man standing silently by the door.

You drew in a long and shaky breath. “Get up, Fred.”

He stood slowly, like an old man. You closed your eyes for a second, when you opened them again, you looked only at your husband. “Get out,” you said.

He looked at Reggie, seeking permission, and Reggie gave the smallest tilt of his head toward the door.

“I—I’ll be in the living room.” He turned, opened the door, and stepped through.

And then there was only Reggie and you, completely alone. You stayed where you were, with your arms wrapped tight around yourself. For a long moment neither of you spoke, but then Reggie tilted his head.

“Look, I’m not gonna do anythin’ to you that you don’t want. That’s not what we agreed.”

You let out a bitter breath through your nose. “That’s generous of you.”

He gave the smallest shrug. “But I do have a debt to collect. That don’t disappear just because your man’s sorry. Someone pays it. One way or another.”

You stared at the carpet between you, trying to focus on that instead of his face. “I’m not giving you anything.”

Reggie nodded once, like he’d expected exactly that answer. “That’s okay,” he said simply. “I respect that. I do.”

He paused, letting the silence settle again. “But a debt’s a debt. So it’ll be your husband who pays. And he ain’t got the money. Which means he pays in blood, or whatever else my boys decide looks fair. Could be quick. Could be slow. Depends how angry they are by the time they get to him.”

He wasn’t threatening, not really. He was stating facts. You lifted your eyes to his, and something hot and furious rose in your chest. You hated Fred in that moment, hated him so completely it burned. Hated the way he’d left you here like a parcel to be unwrapped. Hated that you were even considering this.

And so, you took one step forward, then another, stopping when you were close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his aftershave underneath it.

Slowly, with your hand shaking, you reached out, settling your palm over the front of his trousers. He didn’t flinch or pull away, just drew in a slow breath through his nose as you curled your fingers lightly, feeling the weight of his cock through the fabric, the thickening outline that was already starting to respond.

You kept your eyes on his chest, because you couldn’t look up yet. “This,” your voice sounded foreign, like it belonged to someone else, not you. “That’s what I’m offering.”

Reggie let the silence stretch another beat, then he gave a small, almost regretful shake of his head. “You can do better than that,” he murmured.

His tone wasn’t cruel, it was matter-of-fact, like this was just a business agreement. “Your husband owes me a lot of money,” he reminded you. “That’s not a quick wank in the dark, love. That’s a proper debt.”

You felt your throat closing, and you forced yourself to swallow hard. As you lifted your chin at last, you finally met his gaze.

“My mouth,” you said. “I’ll use my mouth, and that’s it. That’s what I’m willing to give.”

The words hung between you. Reggie studied your face for a long moment, like he was trying to see past the fear and the anger to whatever was underneath.

He exhaled through his nose, then, very slowly, he lifted one hand to brush the back of his knuckles lightly along your cheekbone. “Alright,” he said quietly.

He grazed his thumb over the corner of your mouth, lingering there for half a second. Then he stepped back, just enough to give you room, and shrugged out of his overcoat. Folded it once, laid it carefully over the back of the chair by the dressing table, and he turned back to you.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

You sank slowly to your knees in front of him, your dressing gown slipped off one shoulder as you moved, but you didn’t bother fixing it. Reggie stood still above you, he hadn’t touched you since that single brush of knuckles along your jaw, his hands hung loose at his sides now.

You looked up, catching those piercing blue eyes, and then you found the fly of his trousers, dragged the zip down, and popped the button free under your thumb. You parted the dark wool, easing it open, then hooked two fingers into the waistband of his black briefs and tugged them down just enough.

His cock surged free, already straining to full hardness from your earlier teasing. It slapped lightly against his stomach before settling, long and proud, curving upward in an arc. The thick veins stood out along the shaft, pulsing under the flushed ski, the fat head was dark plum-red, glossy with the first slick bead of pre-cum already weeping from the slit.

When you finally closed your fingers around the base, you heard the smallest hitch in his breathing, not quite a groan, but a quiet, controlled inhale through his nose.

Before you could second guess it, you leaned in. The first touch of your lips was tentative, almost testing, enough to feel the heat of his cockhead against the inside of your mouth. You parted your lips slowly, letting the flushed tip slide past them. He tasted clean, and faintly salty from the pre-cum already leaking steadily against your taste buds.

You could do this. Fred had made it sound simple. Just ten minutes, just open your mouth wide and let him use it, and it’d be over.

You opened your mouth wider, so the head slipped past your lips, sealing them around him and flattening your tongue along the underside as you took the first inch. Then another inch, and another. Your jaw had to stretch to accommodate the girth, it ached almost immediately, you weren’t used to holding something so big inside your mouth.

Reggie let out a low sound then, something between a sigh and a rumble. You braced your hands on the front of his thighs, feeling the faint tremor in them, the only sign he wasn’t entirely composed.

You started to move, just shallow bobs, letting your lips glide over the first few inches while your tongue swirled lazy circles around the head on every upstroke. You hollowed your cheeks on the pull-back, creating suction, making your saliva gather quickly. Your spit slicked him, and it dropped down the shaft so your hand could follow your mouth, twisting lightly at the base on every downstroke.

That earned you another sound from him. Rougher this time, and a quiet “fuck” under his breath. That sound, involuntary and almost surprised, sent a sudden pulse of heat straight between your legs.

You hadn’t expected it. You hadn’t expected your body to react at all, for you this was supposed to be only a transaction to save your husband’s life, one you weren’t supposed to enjoy. But, for some reason, maybe because it was Reggie Kray who you were pleasing, you were enjoying it. You felt yourself clench around nothing, and an aching throb you hadn’t felt in a long time starting to form in your belly. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, making the silk of your slip ride up until the cool air brushed the suddenly damp cotton between your legs.

You moaned around him, muffled by his thick cock down your throat. The vibration made him jerk his hips forward the tiniest fraction before he caught himself.

“Easy,” he murmured, lifting his hand to thread his fingers gently into your hair, holding you there steadily. “You greedy girl.”

You took him deeper, until your throat protested when the head nudged the back, making you gag once. You pulled back just enough to breathe, then tried again, slower this time, relaxing your throat as best you could. You managed another inch, then another, until your nose brushed the coarse dark hair at his base and your lips were stretched tight around him.

There was no reason for you to pour this much into it. You could’ve given him one of those lazy, half-hearted blowjobs you sometimes gave Fred when he insisted, just going through the motions until he finished and rolled off. But this was different, something urged you to do better, to give everything. You wanted him to feel it, wanted Reggie to lose control, wanted to feel his thick cock pulse and jump against your tongue because of you.

He groaned properly then, a long sound that rolled through his chest and down into you. Your cunt clenched again, harder this time. You could feel the wetness gathering and soaking through the thin fabric of your underwear. Every time he made one of those sounds, every quiet curse, every shaky exhale, made another wave of heat roll through your body.

That’s when you picked up the pace, bobbing in, moving your head fast, keeping your lips stretched tight around his shaft as you took him deeper on every downstroke. You worked him with your tongue relentlessly along the underside in long drags, pressing hard against the fat vein that throbbed hotter with each pass, flicking the sensitive ridge just under the head on the upstroke.

You pumped the base with your hand, squeezing it rhythmically, milking him from root to where your mouth met him. The sounds were obscene, filling the room, the wet gluck of your throat when you pushed him deep enough to gag just a little, the slick schlick-schlick of your palm gliding up and down his spit-shiny length, the ragged hitch in his breathing turning into broken groans he couldn’t quite swallow.

Reggie tightened his fingers in your hair, painfully enough to let you know he was losing the battle with control. “Christ,” he rasped. “Look at you. Look how hungry you are”

You couldn’t look up, not with your mouth so full, but you felt his gaze on you, like it was touching you everywhere his hands weren’t.

In that moment, you slipped your free hand between your own thighs without conscious thought, pressing the heel of your palm against your clit through the soaked cotton, rocking against it to relieve the ache that was consuming you.

A muffled whimper escaped your lips around his cock. He heard it, and gave a shallow thrust… then another. Reggie started fucking your mouth in slow rocks. You let him, not because you had to, but because you wanted him to. The ache between your legs was unbearable now, and so you rubbed harder, circling the swollen nub until the friction was almost too much and not enough at once.

Reggie’s breathing had turned harsh. He flexed the hand in your hair, and then slid it to cup the back of your skull, pushing you even deeper, forcing you to take more of his cock until you gagged, your nose pressed against his skin.

“Gonna—” he managed, sounding completely wrecked. “Fuck—gonna cum.”

You didn’t make any effort to pull off, just stayed there with your nose pressed to his pubic bone, your throat working around him, swallowing convulsively.

The first thick pulse of cum hit the back of your throat, flooding your mouth in a sudden rush that made your eyes water. You swallowed instinctively as another spurt followed, then another, each one thicker and more forceful than the last, coating your tongue. You took as much as you could, gulping greedily down the shaft while he groaned above you. But it was too much, and when your lungs finally burned for air you had to pull off with a wet pop. The last ropes spilled messily over your lips, streaking across your tongue before dripping in sticky strands from the corners of your mouth.

Reggie shuddered through the last of it, jerking his hips once more before going still. For a long moment there was only the sound of his uneven breathing.

You stayed on your knees, feeling the lingering taste of him on your tongue, and the throbbing between your thighs. Your knickers were utterly soaked, plastered to your folds in a sticky and uncomfortable mess. Every small shift of your hips made the wet fabric drag against your clit, aching for pressure you weren’t allowed to give yourself.

Reggie slid his hand from your hair to your cheek, brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised had fallen, then tracing the mess at the corner of your mouth. He tilted your face up so you had to meet his eyes.

“You’re wet,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and he almost sounded amused. “Aren’t you?”

You felt the burning in your cheeks. You tried to look away, but he tightened his fingers just enough to keep you there.

“Don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t hide it now. I heard you moan around me. Felt the way you squeezed your thighs together every time I made a sound.” Reffie flicked his gaze down to where your hand had been, pressed between your legs through the silk of your slip. “And you were touching yourself the whole time. Couldn’t help it, could you?”

You swallowed, too embarrassed to even answer him. He gave a small shake of his head, almost fond. “Christ, love. Sucking cock gets you this worked up?” His voice dropped even lower, teasing you without any real cruelty behind his words. “Or is it just mine?”

“It’s not—” You tried, but there was no point in denying it. Not when he’d seen you touching yourself, between his knees, moaning around his cock like you couldn’t get enough.

He crouched suddenly, bringing his face level with yours. “Your husband’s downstairs,” he said softly, like he was sharing a secret. “Probably sittin’ there with his head in his hands, wonderin’ how long it’s gonna take. Wonderin’ if you’re cryin’. Wonderin’ if I’m hurtin’ you.” A small smile curved his mouth. “He doesn’t know you’re drippin’ for it, does he? Doesn’t know his wife’s cunt is throbbin’ just from havin’ my prick in her mouth.”

You flinched, because he was right.

“Maybe he never gave you what you needed,” Reggie went on, barely above a whisper. “Maybe that’s why he ended up owing me money in the first place. He was too busy to notice his own wife was starvin’.” He tilted his head. “Or maybe he noticed. And just didn’t care enough to do anythin’ about it.”

You felt something crack inside your chest. All that anger and shame you’d been trying to repress finally being set free. “He fucking sold me,” you spat. “Like I’m a whore. Like I’m nothing.”

Reggie didn’t flinch. “He did,” he said simply, not bothering to sugar-coat it. “He looked me in the eye and offered you up to save his own skin. Handed you over like a fuckin’ envelope full of cash.”

You stared at him, his words hurt, but they were a truth you needed to hear. “If I had a woman,” he said quietly, “If I had a woman like you, I’d kill half of London before I let another man put a hand on her. I’d burn the fuckin’ city down first.” His eyes held yours without blinking. “That’s the difference between him and me.”

The silence that followed was thick, you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, too loud. You stood slowly, feeling your legs unsteady and your thighs slick beneath the slip. The dressing gown had fallen open completely now, but you didn’t bother closing it. You let him see… let him look at you completely.

Slowly, you backed toward the bed without breaking eye contact. You sat there, and then slid further up, until your back rested against the headboard, keeping your knees drawn up slightly.

You looked at him, still crouched where you’d left him, with his trousers still undone, and his cock thickening again under your gaze. You licked your lips to taste him there still. “Get over here,” you said.

Reggie stood at the foot of the bed for one last heartbeat, long enough for you to feel the full weight of his stare traveling over your body. Over the way your thighs trembled where they were already parted, the dark patch staining the cotton of your knickers, the rise and fall of your chest as you tried to catch your breath.

He reached down without hurry, wrapping one hand around the thick base of his cock, giving himself one slow pump from root to tip, letting you watch the way the skin slid over the hardness beneath.

Then he climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He placed one knee between your calves, then the other, until he knelt fully between your spread thighs.

Reggie hooked his hands under your knees, and pushed upward in one smooth motion, folding your legs back toward your shoulders, tilting your hips and arching your back off the bed. The position left you completely open, with your knickers stretched across your swollen folds. He didn’t pull them off, simply dragged two fingers along the crotch and yanked the cotton to the side, baring your cunt completely to his sight.

You felt the air hit you, and you whimpered, twitching your hips upward involuntarily.

Reggie made a low sound in his throat. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmured. “So fuckin’ wet already. Drippin’ down your arse. That all from suckin’ me off?”

He dragged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slickness. The ridge bumped over your clit each pass, sending sharp jolts up your spine, making you gasp every time.

“Beg for it,” Reggie said quietly.

Your voice cracked. “Please—Reggie—please fuck me.”

He didn’t smile, just lined himself up, pressed the head against your entrance, and pushed in. The stretch was immediate and overwhelming. He was so much bigger than Fred, thicker and longer. Your walls had to yield around him, fluttering helplessly as he sank deeper. Reggie made you feel every vein, every ridge, the way the head nudged against your cervix when he finally bottomed out, pressing his hips flush to yours, grinding his pubic bone hard against your clit.

You cried out, helpless under his assault. Reggie groaned in response, dropping his forehead to rest against your shoulder for a second as he let himself feel you clench around him.

“Fuck,” hestayed buried to the hilt for several long seconds, letting you adjust, letting you feel how completely he filled you, before he started to move. “Tight little cunt. Takin’ me so well.”

His first thrust was measured, pulling out almost to the tip, then sliding back in with force. The drag was exquisite, you felt every inch leave you aching and empty, then every inch return, stretching you open again. He kept your legs pinned high, with his elbows hooked under your knees to spread you wider, folding you in half so he could go impossibly deep.

Each stroke hit that spot inside you, ripping moan after moan from you.

Reggie only picked up speed. He went harder, until the wet slap of his hips meeting yours echoed in the room. The bed creaked under the force of it, and the headboard knocked rhythmically against the wall. It was so loud there was no doubt Fred could hear you downstairs. He could hear how another man fucked you, how he made you moan and cry with pleasure for him.

He moved his hand, one stayed hooked under your knee, keeping you spread, and the other slid up to your breast. He shoved the twisted slip higher, baring you completely, closing his hand over one breast. His palm was large enough to engulf it, and he brushed his thumb roughly over the nipple until it pebbled into a hard peak. He pinched it, rolled it, tugged it, and then did the same to the other.

You arched into his touch, crying out every time he twisted. “These tits,” he growled against your neck. “Been dyin’ to get my hands on them. So fuckin’ perfect.”

He lowered his head, took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud. You keened desperately, taking your fingers to his hair, holding him there.

He switched sides, giving the same rough attention to your other breast, while his hips never faltered. The rhythm was brutal now, he kept giving you those punishing strokes that drove the air from your lungs every time he bottomed out.

You were getting louder, couldn’t stop it even if you wanted it. Your moans were turning to whimpers turning to outright cries. Every thrust punched a new sound out of you, and some sick, twisted part of you wanted Fred to hear every single sound. He’d dragged Reggie here, offering you to him, and now your wanted your husband to stand out there listening to every choked whimper, you wanted him to hear how wet you were for it, how you were coming apart on another man’s cock, louder and harder than you ever had for him.

Reggie lifted his head from your tits, he had his lips wet and swollen when he spoke next. “Better than him?” he demanded. “Tell me. Right now.”

You shook your head, the tears of pleasure-prickling at the corners of your eyes, then you nodded frantically.

“Say the fuckin’ words.”

“Better,” you sobbed. “So much better! Fuck—Reggie! He never—he never fucked me like this—”

He grinned, slamming in harder and faster, snapping his hips forward with an angle that had him grinding against your clit with every thrust.

Reggie released your breast, moving both hands to your thighs now, pushing them even higher, folding you tighter so he could open you wider.

“Look at me,” he ordered you.

You did, looking at him with your eyes glassy and mouth open on a constant stream of moans.

“You’re mine tonight. Every inch of this cunt belongs to me right now. And you’re gonna make sure he hears it.”

Your eyes widened instantly, but Reggie only leaned down, brushing his mouth over your ear. “Louder, love. Scream for me. Let that pathetic fuck downstairs hear exactly what his wife sounds like when a real man’s balls-deep inside her.”

“Reggie—” you sobbed. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—”

He changed the angle, just a fraction, and every thrust dragged the head of his cock over your g-spot in relentless strokes.

It made you shatter almost immediately. The orgasm ripped through you, blinding you for a couple of seconds. Your cunt clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and soaking his cock with your gushing slick. You screamed his name, curses and pleas, not caring who listened.

Reggie groaned, feeling you milk him. “That’s it,” he rasped. “Cum all over my cock. Soak me. Show me how much you needed this. Show me how much better I fuck you.”

He didn’t slow down, just kept fucking you through the aftershocks, drawing the climax out until your thighs shook and the tears streamed down your temples.

After snapping forward one last brutal time, burying himself to the hilt, the first hot pulse of cum flooded deep inside you. Thick spurts that painted your walls in ropes seemed to keep coming, each one forcing a whimper from your throat. You felt the fat head flaring wider as he emptied himself, flooding you until it was too much.

Reggie grinded shallowly, working every last drop deeper, like he wanted his seed sealed inside you forever. Your cunt fluttered hard around the invasion, milking him greedily through the aftershocks.

When he finally stilled, still half-hard inside you, you could feel the warmth of his release leaking slowly every time your walls pulsed. Reggie slid one hand down to cup your mound possessively, pressing just enough to feel the mess he’d made, smearing it over your swollen clit in lazy circles while you trembled beneath him.

After that, Reggie was the one who moved first. He eased out of you, making you both hiss at the sudden emptiness. He gave his cock one absent swipe with the edge of the sheet before tucking himself back into his trousers, zipping up. Then, he smothered a hand over his hair, looking almost presentable again.

You sat up slowly, tugging your slip down as best you could, smoothing the fabric over your hips. The dressing gown had fallen off one shoulder completely, so you pulled it back up, tying the belt with shaking fingers. Your hair was a mess, so you ran your fingers through it, trying to tame the worst of the knots, but it was useless. You caught your reflection in the dressing-table mirror across the room. Your eyes were glassy, and your mouth bruised-looking. You looked thoroughly, unmistakably fucked.

Reggie reached past you, picked up his overcoat from the chair where he’d folded it so carefully earlier. Shook it once to straighten the creases, then draped it over his arm.

“You alright?” he asked.

You nodded once.

“This isn’t something I usually do,” he said suddenly.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

“I don’t take women as payment. Never have. Not once. If a man can’t settle what he owes, I break his fingers, his knees, his fucking face if I have to. But I don’t touch what’s his. Not like this.”

“Look, Reggie. I don’t care how you—”

“When your husband said your name, it clicked.”He nodded once, like he was confirming something to himself. “Primary school. You always sat at the front, kept your hair in those neat braids. You helped me with my homework once, proper helped, not just gave me the answers.”

Your breath caught, but he kept talking before you could say anything. “And Ron, teachers hated him, kids were scared of him. But you… You were never scared. You’d talk to him like he was normal.”

He paused for just a second. “I can’t believe you married that idiot,” he said, and he sounded almost sad. “Fred. Fucking Fred. A man who’d sell his own wife to save his skin. You could’ve done better. So much better.”

You felt something like anger and shame, but also something softer you didn’t want to name, blooming in your stomach. “I was eighteen,” you whispered. “Thought I loved him.”

“You were kind,” he said as he approached the bedroom door. “Still are. That’s the problem. Kind gets used.”

Reggie opened the door, and you went down first, he followed a step behind. When you made your way downstairs, Fred was sitting on the couch, with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

When he heard your footsteps he jerked upright. His eyes went straight to you, searching your face, your hair, the way you held yourself. “Love?” His voice cracked on the word. “Are you alright? Did he—did he hurt you?”

“Get away from me,” you said. “Like you care.”

Fred flinched like you’d slapped him. “Love, please… I didn’t—I had no choice—”

“You had every choice. You chose. You chose this.”

He took a step toward you, reaching out for your hands, but you stepped back, into Reggie.

“Debt’s paid,” that was all Reggie said.

Fred exhaled. “Thank you. Christ… thank you—”

Reggie didn’t acknowledge the thanks. He simply looked at Fred for one long second, then turned his attention back to you. You felt his hand brushing the small of your back, just once, light enough that Fred might not have seen it, just a private thing between the two of you.

Then he stepped around you, walking to the front door, pausing with his hand on the knob, and turned to look straight at you.

The corner of his mouth lifted, just the smallest fraction. It wasn’t quite a smile, just a knowing gesture, like he was remembering every sound you’d made, the way you’d come apart under him, but also seeing the sweet girl he’d loved once, back when his hands weren’t stained yet. The girl who reminded him of when things were simpler, and who could make him feel human, capable of something soft.

His eyes held yours for one heartbeat longer, then he opened the door, stepping out into the rain without looking back.

A/N: Omg that Eddie pregnancy fic is never getting finished HAHAHA. But I hope you enjoy some of my other fics in the meantime. The other day I suddenly felt like writing this Reggie fic based on an idea someone sent me back in October, so… here it is.

At first I thought about making it darker, you know, leaning more into dubcon, but I guess I’ve been feeling soft lately and ended up adding a little… romance? Idk. Somehow it turned out kind of sweet, considering how fucked up the situation actually is.

Joel was a reserved man, in a way that told you he’d been hurt in ways that didn’t fully heal. It was no surprise after everything that went down with his ex wife, that had closed him off to new relationships. He had told you many times “I’m not really looking for anything,” “I have too much on my plate with work and Sarah,” “I don’t have time or energy for a relationship.”

And each time, it hurt. But not enough to stop you. Something in his eyes, sad and almost hopeful, kept you trying. Because underneath all his distance, you could feel how much he wanted to be chosen. And you chose him, over and over again.

You took rejection after rejection, your patience wearing thin but never enough to quit, something deep inside you told you he was worth the wait. And when he finally asked you on that first date, all nervous and shy, like a teenager again, you knew you’d already won.

After that date, everything changed, because Joel realized he was fucked. Head over heels. You were the love of his life, there was no arguing about that. He saw it in the way you laughed at his dumb jokes, in how Sarah lit up when you walked into a room, in the way your hand fit perfectly in his. He didn’t stand a chance.

Your relationship was wonderful. You spent most of your time at Joel’s house, practically living together at this point. His daughter Sarah was an amazing kid and she absolutely adored you. Some nights you’d help her with homework, the two of you giggling on the couch while Joel watched from the kitchen with a beer in hand, his heart feeling fuller than he ever thought possible again.

And the sex, oh Jesus, the sex was mind-blowing, completely out of this world. You didn’t know how he did it, but Joel had a way of turning you insanely feral and insatiable for him. You didn’t remember ever being this needy all the time time before you met him.

You wanted it in the morning, then a quickie in the shower, a good and long round before going to bed at night, maybe two if Joel was still with enough energy. You’d climb onto him like he was your last meal, grind against him just to feel his cock harden under you, and fuck him like your life depended on it.

Joel teased you about it, he’d call you “my little nympho,” as a joke. But the truth was that he did struggle to keep up with you sometimes. It wasn’t about not want it, God knew he’d go at it with you the entire day if he could. But one thing was what you want and a very different one was what your body can do. Usually after one round he was completely spent, his bones and joints aching from the draining physical work, and you’d have to wait at least some good forty minutes before he could get it up again.

You didn’t mind. You never made him feel bad about it. You’d kiss his chest and let him rest, or ride his face slowly until he was hard again, until he was gripping your thighs like he couldn’t breathe without you. You loved those moments just as much, his mouth moving slowly over your cunt, his eyes locked on yours, the delicious rasp of his beard scraping your thighs as he devoured you like you were his favorite meal.

Tonight, when Joel arrived home from work, his eyes looked tired, and his shoulders were slumped from a long day of lifting heavy equipment and bending as he worked in the new house he was renovating.

He hadn’t even kissed you yet, not properly. Just a tired hand on your lower back when he got home earlier, as he murmured hey, darlin’, shuffling past you toward the shower.

When he crawled into bed beside you, he looked wrecked, but still, he reached for you immediately, like touching you was the only thing keeping him grounded. He kissed you slowly, as he settled one hand on your thigh, stroking lazy circles with his thumb over your skin. Joel slid up the other to your waist, splaying his fingers across your the fabric of your slip, then higher to cup your face, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeper, his tongue brushing yours, making your toes curl.

You pressed open-mouthed kisses to the places you knew made him melt: the sensitive hollow at the base of his neck, the curve of his shoulder still warm from the shower, the ridges of his ribs. He smelled clean from the soap and the trace of his shampoo from the shower.

“Mmm, you’ve been working so hard, sweetheart,” you whispered against the damp skin of his neck. “You deserve to relax… Let me take care of you tonight.”

He grunted, fluttering his eyes shut as you roamed your hands freely over his body. You dragged your nails lightly over his sides, feeling a shiver rippling through him, then flattened your hands against his chest, brushing the dark hair there, circling his nipples until they pebbled under your touch.

You slid your hand lower, cupping him through the fabric of his underwear. He was still soft beneath your palm, his cock still heavy, but not stirring. You didn’t think much of it at first, it happened sometimes after brutal shifts, so you kept kissing his neck, moving of your lips along the pulse point you knew made him shiver, while your wrapped your fingers loosely around the outline of him, stroking it slow, with patience, coaxing him the way you always did.

You expected the familiar twitch, the thickening under your touch, the rumble in his chest when his body finally caught up. But… nothing. The minutes stretched, you kept moving your hand in the same lazy rhythm, brushing your thumb over the head through the fabric, and still he stayed soft against your palm.

Then Joel tensed, stiffening of his shoulders, before he closed his big hand gently around your wrist, stilling you mid-stroke. The room went quieter somehow, he didn’t pull your hand away, just held it there, pressed to him like he needed the contact even if his body wasn’t cooperating.

“Baby?” you murmured.

“’m sorry,” he said hoarsely, like he’d dragged the words up from somewhere deep inside his chest. “’m sorry, I just can’t.”

You blinked, a little startled. “… Can’t what?”

He swallowed, his throat working visibly but his eyes fixed somewhere on the sheets between you instead of your face. “I can’t—” He made a vague gesture downward with one hand, looking defeated. “’s not happenin’.”

You pushed yourself up on one elbow, searching for his face. “Is it me?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and your heart sank with a cold lurch you hadn’t braced for. Had you misread everything? Was he pulling away? Had the spark dimmed because of something you did?

“No,” he said instantly, snapping his head toward you. “Christ, no. It ain’t cha. Don’t even think that.”

The relief hit you fast, but it didn’t quite erase the sting. “Then what—”

“’m tired,” the words cut sharper than he intended. Joel dragged a hand over his face, exhaling through his fingers. Then softer, he added “I’ve had a shit week. My back’s screamin’ every time I move. My knees feel like someone kick ‘em. I can’t even think straight, let alone… get it up.”

The admission hung there in the air. He looked smaller somehow, still avoiding your eyes, like saying it out loud made him feel embarrassed. You let the silence settle for a beat, then reached out to rest your palm against his chest. His heart thumped under your hand. “Joel,” you said gently, brushing over the coarse hair there. “Look at me.”

He did, almost wary, but he met your eyes. “You don’t have to perform for me,” you told him, “I didn’t crawl into this bed because I needed your dick hard. I just needed you here. With me.” You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “If all we do tonight is lie here and you let me hold you while your body remembers it’s allowed to rest, that’s more than enough.”

He exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding the breath since he first felt himself fail. One big hand came up to cover yours on his chest, lacing his fingers with yours tightly. “I hate this,” he muttered. “Feelin’ like ’m lettin’ you down.”

“You’re not.” You shifted closer, tucking yourself against his side, head on his shoulder. “You’re human. And you’ve been carrying too much for too long.”

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured against your hair with gratitude, the words barely above a whisper like he was afraid saying them too loud would break the peace of the moment. “Thanks for understandin’.”

You smiled into his chest, pressing another slow kiss right over his heartbeat. “I still think I could get you hard if I really tried,” you giggled mischievously against his skin. You trailed your lips lower, brushing the soft hair there, then back up to nip gently at his collarbone. “We can just sleep if you want, I mean it. But… I know I could help you relax after your long week. Let me take care of you, Joel. Just a little.”

He let out a tired hum, his body softening under your mouth. Joel exhaled hard through his nose, sounding resigned, like he was surrendering to something he secretly wanted. “Mmm… you want the challenge?” He turned his head just enough to catch your eye, quirking one brow. “Fine. Ya can try, but no promises. An’ you do all the work f’me, darlin’. ’m just gonna lie here and take whatever you give.”

You moved lower, sliding down his body, settling between Joel’s spread thighs. You nudged his legs wider, and he rested one hand loosely on his own stomach, the other fisted in the sheets like he was bracing for whatever came next.

You stroked him again over the cotton of his underwear, feeling the warmth of him seep through the fabric.

After a few long and soothing strokes, you hooked your fingers in the waistband and tugged gently. He lifted his hips just enough to help, and you pulled the underwear down his thighs, freeing him completely. His cock lay soft against his lower stomach, soggy, the head was flushed in a soft pink color, the foreskin slightly retracted.

It rested pliant in your hand when you wrapped your fingers around it. You pressed a soft kiss to the base first, right where the coarse hair started, breathing him in. You trailed up the underside in slow kisses, flicking your tongue lightly along the seam until you reached the fat head. You took him into your mouth gently, with your lips loose around him, no suction yet, just letting him rest on your tongue, while you cupped his balls, rolling them tenderly in circles.

Joel exhaled through his nose, as his hand found your hair, threading his fingers loosely. You started slow, with gentle bobs, barely more than a few inches, letting your tongue swirl patterns around the soft head. You hummed softly, feeling the tiniest twitch against your tongue. Not much, but enough to keep going. You pulled off for a second, letting a thin string of spit connect your lips to him, then licked a long and flat stripe from his balls to the tip, coating him in your slick saliva.

“Fuck… baby,” he rasped, tensing his thighs under your palms. His cock was still soft, but warmer now, the skin at the tip flushing a little darker.

You wrapped your fingers around the base, and stroked upward in time with your mouth, sucking lightly on the head each time you reached it. You kept your other hand massaging his balls, pressing your thumb gently behind them in small circles, the way you knew sometimes woke him up even when he was dead tired.

“Darlin’… mmm,” Joel hummed, looking at the way you had his entire soft cock tucked inside your mouth, your cheeks puffed out around the thickness, lips stretched as you held him there without sucking too hard, just cradling him on your tongue, letting your warmth surround every inch. The gentle weight of him resting against the roof of your mouth made your own cunt throb, the slick already gathering between your legs.

“Y-yeah?” you mumbled around him, the word muffled. You didn’t pull off, just let the hum of your voice tease him, hollowing your cheekd slightly as you gave the softest, slowest suck.

“Mhmmm. Your mouth is so fuckin’ warm, baby… feels like heaven.” His hips gave the tiniest twitch, like his body couldn’t help but seek more of that heat. “Don’t stop… just… keep me in there, darlin’.”

A minute passed. Then another. His breathing changed, turning rougher now. You felt the first real shift, just a subtle thickening against your tongue, and the head swelling just enough to nudge the roof of your mouth. You moaned around him, encouraging to keep going, and took him deeper, letting your throat relax so he could slide further back without resistance.

Joel groaned, twitching his hips forward an inch before he caught himself. “Shit… there it is.”

You smiled around him, hollowing your cheeks a little more now that he was starting to fill out. You bobbed slower but deeper, pressing your tongue flat along the underside as he hardened, until he was thick on your tongue, the familiar ridges of his shaft standing out, the head nudging the back of your throat.

You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him firmly now, slick with spit, feeling how the veins pulsed under your fingers. He was fully hard, and even a bead of pre-cum was welling at the slit.

“Look at this big hard cock,” you whispered, kissing the tip before looking up at him through your lashes. “Told you I could.”

Joel’s chest rose and fell, he reached out to brush your cheek with his finger. “Fuckin’ miracle worker,” he muttered. “C’mere.”

He tugged you up gently, pulling you over his chest so he could kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue, while his now-hard cock pressed insistently against your stomach.

You adjusted yourself until your thighs were straddling his hips. Slowly, you peeled your thin slip over your head, tossing it aside without looking where it landed. His eyes darkened instantly, as he drank in the sight of your bare skin and the soft swell of your breasts.

“You look like a goddamn dream,” he said. “Too damn pretty for a man like me.”

He slid his rough hands up your sides, brushing the tender underswell of your breasts before he cupped them fully, weighing the flesh in his palms. Joel dragged his thumbs over your already stiff nipples, and then leaned in and latched his mouth onto one peak. His tongue swirled wet circles that traced the peaks before he sucked hard enough to pull a sharp gasp from your throat.

You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, still slick from your mouth, and lined him up. Your pussy was already drenched, swollen and aching from sucking him off earlier, you didn’t need any more foreplay. You dragged the fat head through your soaked folds to coat him in your creamy arousal, then notched him at your entrance and sank down slowly, inch by torturous inch.

The stretch was obscene, his thick girth splitting you open and filling every fluttering inch until your ass met his thighs with a wet slap. Your thighs trembled and the walls of your pussy clamped down around him like they never wanted to let go. Joel’s hands flew to your ass, digging in and squeezing the flesh while he held perfectly still, letting you adjust and you use him exactly how you wanted.

“Fuck…” He let his head fall back against the headboard with a thud, squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat like the pleasure was too much. “So tight… so fuckin’ wet around me… Jesus, baby.”

You rolled your hips in filthy circles first, grinding your clit against the coarse hair at his base, feeling every veined inch drag along your sensitive walls. Then you lifted until just the swollen head stretched your entrance wide, before sinking back down, taking him to the hilt again. The slick sounds of your pussy swallowing him filled the room, mixing with the wrecked grunts rumbling from his chest.

You curled your fingers over his broad shoulders for balance as you started to ride him in earnest, rising and falling, making your breasts bounce with every downstroke. He kept his hands locked on your ass, guiding you just enough to meet your rhythm without taking over, spreading you wider so he could feel every clench, every drip of your arousal coating his balls.

“Use me,” he locked his eyes on where your slick pussy stretched around his cock. “Ride this cock… Take what you need, sweetheart. ’m right here.”

You did, snapping your hips harder now, chasing that wonderful friction only Joel’s cock could ever offer you.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Joel groaned. “The day—ahh— I saw you wearin’ those damn tight jeans…”

You kept grinding down onto him in, dragging your soaked cunt along every thick inch of him.

“I knew… ah—fuck—I knew you could ride cock like this,” he moaned, his voice cracking like he was barely holding on. “Knew those hips were made for fuckin’ me. Made to take every goddamn inch and milk me dry.”

“You’re so deep,” you gasped, breaking on a little whimper that escaped your lips. “Feels so fucking good… You’re stretching me so much, filling me up—”

Joel bit down on his lip until he drew blood, squeezing his eyes shut for a heartbeat like he was fighting the edge. “You’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, baby. Shit, I ain’t gonna—fuck—last much longer with you grippin’ me like that.”

You clenched deliberately around him, chasing your high with desperate rolls of your hips. As you dug your nails deeper into his shoulders, you left red marks there, riding him faster, making the wet slaps echo in the quiet room.

Joel slid up his hands at your sides as you kept sinking down onto him again. He cupped your breasts fully, brushing the undersides before he squeezed them, kneading the weight like he’s memorizing every inch. He groaned when your nipples pebbled under his touch, already stiff and aching.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he focused his sight on the way your tits bounced with every grind, dragging his thumbs over the peaks in slow circles, then pinching them just hard enough to pull a gasp from you, enough to make your cunt clench around him.

Joel leaned forward then, placing a hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while he closed his mouth over your left nipple, sucking the bud deep between his lips and swirling his tongue around it before he sucked harder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive tip just enough to sting.

“Mmm… feels so good, Joel,” you moaned, barely able to hold yourself up, clutching his shoulders.

The low rumble he made vibrated straight through your chest and down to your pussy, making you rock faster, chasing the drag of his cock against that perfect spongy spot inside you. Joel switched to the other breast, laving it with the same greedy attention, sucking, licking and nipping until both nipples were swollen and shiny with his spit.

“Keep ridin’ me just like that,” he growled against your chest, “let me feel how wet you get when I suck these pretty tits.”

Joel tried to buck his hips up, trying to bury himself deeper, but you planted both hands firm on his chest and shoved him back down against the mattress with surprising strength. “Look at you,” you teased, mocking him as you rose up faster, lifting almost all the way off his cock before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt in one slick glide. “Trying to take control? I thought you were too tired to move, baby.”

Joel moaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow, exposing his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he surrendered completely. “Fuck… My girls’s always so damn needy f’me, ain’t cha?” he rasped. “Rub that pretty clit, baby. Make yourself cum all over my cock, squeeze me so tight.”

You obeyed without hesitation, taking one hand down between your bodies to find your swollen clit. You circled it fast in tight little spirals that made your thighs shake and your cunt flutter around his buried length. Joel dropped his eyes immediately, watching the obscene sight of your perky clit peeking out from its hood, growing even puffier under your frantic rubbing, slick shining on your fingertips with every pass.

“Goddamn, look’a that,” he was twitching helplessly beneath you despite your earlier command. “So swollen… so fuckin’ desperate. Keep rubbin’ it, yeahh, jus’like that, gonna make ya cream all over me while I lie here and take it.”

He dug his thumbs into your ass. “C’mon, baby… cum f’me. Lemme feel that tight little pussy milk my cock dry.”

When you came, it hit you all of a sudden. Your hips stuttered, and your slick gushed down his shaft, coating his balls while waves of pleasure crashed through you, leaving you trembling and boneless against his chest.

Joel’s breath hitched. “Oh, fuck, darlin’—I can’t—gonna—”

You nodded frantically, still grinding through the aftershocks. “Do it. Cum inside me. Fill me up! Please, Joel! I want every drop.”

Joel’s cock throbbed violently inside you, swelling thicker before he spilled thick ropes of cum that erupted deep inside your cunt, painting your walls in heavy pulses. He jerked his hips up, burying himself as far as he could while he unloaded.

You sat there together afterward, your bodies tangled together and your hearts hammering in sync. “You okay?” you murmured, threading your fingers gently through his damp hair.

Joel nodded slowly, still buried inside you, his cock softening but not pulling out of your heat yet. “Yeah, better than okay. Fuckin’ perfect.”

He pressed a tiny kiss to your shoulder, then your neck, lingering there like he never wanted to let go.

“Let’s get cleaned up, cowboy.”

But he just grunted, tightening his arms around your waist. “Not yet. Just… stay. Need ya right here a little longer.”

And you did, you stayed right there on his lap. “I’ll give you a minute to catch your breath, old man,” you said. “And then I’m doing that all over again.”

A/N: I’m sorry to everyone who felt a little neglected during January. I know you’re all incredibly sweet for saying you missed my Joel fics and asking when I’d post a new one. I just hope you know that inspiration for certain characters comes in waves. I spent about a month without writing any Joel fic, but I also spent around eight months writing nearly 50 of them (all of which you can find in my masterlist). So I’m sure there are still a few you haven’t read yet, or maybe some older ones you might want to revisit if you miss them. You can also check out my fic rec tag to discover some amazing writers I love.

I just hope you can understand how time-consuming writing a fic can be, and how much harder it is when inspiration just isn’t there. I appreciate you all so much. Just know that I also do this for myself, and purely for fun. Sometimes I need to take a break until inspiration comes back, or try other things, because I want writing to stay a positive experience and a way to actually enjoy my free time.

I hope you enjoyed this one, your support is always welcomed and very much appreciated, so please, I’d love to hear your thoughts or if you could helped me (as well as every other content creator here) by reblogging our work🩷. I think I just wanted to write something a bit more classic, something most people could enjoy. That said… I do have some pervy!Joel sitting in my drafts, and I’ve been thinking about writing something special for Valentine’s Day, even though I don’t really know what yet. So if you have any ideas about how you think Joel would celebrate Valentine’s Day, feel free to send them my way.

“Jesus! Fuck… So good—” Robby choked out, and each word was punctuated by another pulse that painted fresh streaks across your ruined face, over your forehead, into your hairline, dripping from your jaw.

You swallowed, letting him hear it, and licked a stripe across your swollen lower lip, gathering more of him onto your tongue. “That… that was a lot,” you could feel the volume of his release on your face, probably six ounces, easy.

Robby kept his eyes locked on your face like he couldn’t look anywhere else. “I… uh… I tried to warn you,” he managed to say. “Told you to pull away. Fuck, baby, I—I’m sorry.”

You reached up, dragging two fingers through the thickest stripe across your cheek and gathering a generous smear of his cum, then you brought it to your lips, and sucked them clean while holding his gaze. “Don’t apologize,” you said firmly, licking the last of it from your fingertips. “And don’t you ever ask me to pull away again.”

A/N: Girrrl, when you sent me that, my mind immediately went to facial. Like, getting a facial from Robby. And the shock of experiencing it for the first time and realizing just how much it was.

Unfortunately, I don’t have that gift some people have of writing something short and straightforward… so yeah. I really just needed to write it.